Torchwood don't have holidays
by Quiet Time
Summary: What happens in Torchwood while everyone else is celebrating? Christmas, New Years Eve, now building up to Valentine's Day. Disclaimer here because I always forget - Torchwood belongs to the BBC, not me.
1. Christmas part 1

**I know it's the wrong time of year, but the Christmas-in-July parties sparked this off…**

**Imagine there was a Christmas somewhere between Journey's End and CoE.**

"Have fun, lads," Gwen waved as Jack and Ianto stepped onto the invisible lift.

"Back before midnight," Ianto promised, already fending off Jack's hands.

"If he lasts that long," Gwen murmured indulgently, turning back to the Rift monitor.

It was Christmas Eve. And Christmas was always a volatile time. Not wise to leave the Rift unmonitored. So Gwen had offered to stay at the Hub while they went out to dinner. Then, Rift permitting, she'd be free to spend the rest of the night home with Rhys.

The streets of Cardiff were crowded with last-minute Christmas shoppers. There was always one last gift to buy, some forgotten essential for the big lunch tomorrow. Festive music spilled from the doorways as the two men passed, heads tucked into their coat collars against the chill.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to your sister tomorrow?" Jack asked tentatively.

"Not unless you're coming too," Ianto answered firmly.

Jack shook his head. "Not the right day to drop a bombshell on them."

Ianto smiled. "It never ceases to amaze me, the way you're all injured one minute that you haven't met Rhiannon, and the next you're thinking up excuses not to."

"Just waiting for the right moment," Jack insisted. "And Christmas Day is not the right moment."

"So what do you want to do instead?" Ianto asked.

Jack smirked. "I'll think of something."

"I meant," Ianto said with an attempt at dignity, though his mouth was twitching, "Something Christmas related."

"We could put a Santa pompom on your Unit cap," Jack suggested.

Ianto's retort was cut off by a collision with a shopper who hadn't seen them due to the mountain of packages she was carrying.

"I've never seen it this crowded," Ianto remarked, after they'd helped pick up the packages. "Good thing you booked a table. Don't think we'd have been able to walk in anywhere tonight. Where are we eating anyway?"

"Just over there," Jack jerked his chin.

"Swish," Ianto commented appreciatively.

"Merry Christmas," Jack responded, opening the restaurant door and ushering Ianto through with a theatrical bow.

"That's better," Ianto commented, as the door closed. The street noise cut off abruptly. Christmas music played softly through the speakers. "Noisy out there. Though we do seem to be getting carolers." He nodded at the line of musicians dressed in Santa suits, who were just filing into the restaurant.

"Bet it's quiet in London, though," Jack commented. "Given the last few years, everyone avoids it during Christmas now."

"London does seem to attract Christmas disasters," Ianto agreed. "It's the only time I'm actually glad we're based in Cardiff."

They were shown to a table near the windows. Jack gazed thoughtfully up at the stars. "I suppose the Doctor's up there heading off something else," he mused. "Maybe this year he'll stop it before it hits atmosphere. Give London a quiet Christmas for once."

Ianto didn't reply. After a few minutes the silence became heavy. Jack looked across curiously. Ianto was twisting his napkin into painful shapes.

"Something wrong?" Jack asked warily.

Ianto looked up, pasting on a smile. "Nothing," he said unconvincingly.

Jack sighed. "You're usually a better liar than that. Spit it out."

"It just occurred to me why you suggested I go to Rhiannon's place tomorrow, that's all."

Jack eyed him suspiciously. "Because I wanted to give you the chance to spend Christmas with your family. What else?"

"Well," Ianto said hesitantly, "It'd free you up to go to London and find the Doctor."

"Not this again," Jack said tiredly. "How many times have I got to tell you? I found him, he can't help me. I came back. I'm not chasing after him anymore."

"So you said," Ianto countered. "Then you ran off after him again. Left me and Gwen with a hubful of Daleks." He looked up challengingly. "I may not know exactly where I stand on your priorities, Jack, but it's at least one level down from the Doctor. And that's me being optimistic."

"Merry bloody Christmas," Jack grumbled. "I don't know why you keep bringing this up."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Ianto pointed out, snapping his menu open. "You insisted."

"Sometimes," Jack said, hiding behind his own menu, "I think you just enjoy the angst."

"I prefer the truth," Ianto said quietly. "I'd handle this better if you just admitted it."

But Jack couldn't tell Ianto the truth. Because he didn't understand it himself. This, well, call it an obsession, with a man who'd never looked twice at him- not that way at least. Who probably knew precisely how he felt and ignored it. Who he'd died for a dozen times over and never gained so much as a thank you, let alone being around when he woke up.

Jack's phoned buzzed. "Saved by the bell," he announced, sliding his earpiece into place.

"What have you got, Gwen?"

Stress had raised the volume of her voice. Ianto could hear her clearly even from across the table. "Alerts," she announced. "Dozens of them. Alien tech. Weapons. They're just appearing out of nowhere. Not the Rift."

"Details, Gwen," Jack ordered. "What the …." Ianto was tugging at his sleeve.

"Jack," Ianto said very quietly. "Those carolers? The Santas? They've got guns instead of hands."

"Gwen," Jack said into the earpiece. "We've found them. Some of them."

"On my way," Gwen said eagerly.

"Stay there," Jack snapped. "Look for a central spike. They're being controlled. We need co-ordinates. A signal frequency if you can find it."

"What are they?" Ianto asked softly, slipping his own earpiece into position.

"The Doctor calls them pilot fish," Jack answered, eyes on the Santa clad androids. "Advance forces. They're being controlled by someone – or something – else. So we deal with them first, then we find the operator. You're armed?"

"Of course." Ianto loosened his pistol in its concealed holster. Didn't want to draw it until he had to. Restaurant full of people. A panicked stampede wouldn't help at all.

Jack grinned. "Jones. Ianto Jones. Armed and dangerous on Christmas Eve. Sounds like a grab line for an action flick."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "On a date with you, Jack, everyone needs some form of self-defense." He rose casually to his feet and moved away from the table with deceptive speed. "How are we doing this?" he asked into his Bluetooth. Jack was moving too. They were already out of range of casual conversation.

"Ideally," Jack said, circling the restaurant in the opposite direction to Ianto. "We knock out the operating frequency. Disable all of them in one stroke. Gwen's working on it."

"Failing which?"

"Try not to shoot any civilians."

"Cut the quips, boys, please?" Gwen's voice sounded in their ears. "And tell me what we're dealing with?"

"Bad Santas," Jack replied. He and Ianto were in position now, at either end of the row of androids. Miraculously, it didn't appear as though any of the restaurant patrons had noticed the firearms concealed within the Santa suits.

"Santas with masks?" Gwen's voice had risen to a strained pitch.

"That's them," Ianto confirmed.

"More on the Plass, then," Gwen announced. "All around the Hub. I can see them on the cameras. What do you want me to do?"

Jack hissed with frustration. "Find the frequency they're transmitting on. Now would be nice."

"I'm trying," Gwen snapped. "But I'm not bloody Tosh, am I?"

There was no answer to that.

Whether in response to some signal, or because they'd registered the presence of the two armed men, the Santas simultaneously raised their hands. Restaurant patrons screamed and scattered as the pistols within their sleeves glittered.

They fired together. Six shots. Six Santas down. Not bad. Not bad at all.

But by now there was the sound of gunshots in the streets. The restaurant window shattered. They bolted. There was a phalanx of Santas advancing on the restaurant.

"Got it," Gwen yelled triumphantly.

"Jam the frequency," Jack ordered. A bullet whined past his ear. "Get into cover," he hissed at Ianto.

"Haven't got one," Gwen explained. "Central transmission point though."

"Send the co-ordinates and meet us there," Jack directed.

"But Jack," Gwen protested. "It's in London!"

Ianto eyed Jack speculatively as they took cover behind a dumpster. "Guess the Doctor didn't head them off after all."

They fired on the approaching force. But there were more Santas than bullets in their guns. They were forced into retreat. "Have you noticed?" Ianto asked, as they slipped into an alleyway, the metallic crunch of their pursuer's footsteps not far behind. "That they aren't chasing anyone else?"

"Maybe because we're armed?" Jack shrugged. "Not that I'm gonna test the theory by throwing the gun away." He fired off another careful shot. His target cannoned backwards into another android, taking it out too. "Two with one bullet!" he crowed. "Top that, Jones."

"Can't, I'm afraid," Ianto said regretfully, as his pistol clicked hollowly. "I'm out. Guess I can test your theory after all."

Jack jerked his chin towards the next piece of cover. Garbage bins near the end of the alley. Beyond them, escape. "Get behind those. I'll cover you."

Jack emptied his Webley into the next rank of Santas and dashed for cover himself in the ensuing confusion.

Ianto's arm was bleeding. "Just a graze," he announced before Jack could ask. "But it blows your theory. They're still after me."

Jack tucked the Webley away and drew a smaller pistol from somewhere beneath his clothes. "I don't want to know where you were hiding that," Ianto told him.

Jack grinned. "I'll hold them off as long as I can. You get back to the Hub and help Gwen jam that signal."

"But Jack…"

"That was an order." Jack's hand fastened on the back of Ianto's neck, pulling him close, crushing their mouths together in a brief and bruising goodbye. They broke apart as a bullet buried itself in the wall beside them. "Next time I see you,'' Jack said firmly, breathless from a much more pleasant reason than the danger. "We're gonna talk about priorities. Cause you have absolutely no idea. Now go."

Ianto followed orders. But the muffled scream as the Santa's bullets finally found their way into Jack's body echoed in his ears all the way back to the Hub.


	2. Christmas part 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I'm not that clever._

Ianto approached the Hub warily, keeping himself hidden. Gwen had said there were Santas on the plass, and the last thing he wanted was to have gotten all the way here and have them take him out anyway. He locked his fears for Jack into the back of his mind and considered his options for getting inside. The entire building was surrounded by a ring of Santas, reminding him of a police cordon. One thing was certain; he would never see the man in the red suit in quite the same way again. Torchwood did that to you.

He touched his earpiece. "Gwen?" he whispered. "I'm outside."

Inside the Hub, Gwen scanned the CCTV until she spotted Ianto. "I can see you," she confirmed. "And those damned Santas. Where's Jack?"

Ianto swallowed. "I ran out of bullets. He ordered me to come back."

"Oh shit," Gwen muttered, then recovered. "He'll be fine, Ianto. It's Jack. And I need your help finding that frequency. I've already done everything I can think of. Let's get you in."

"I'm open to suggestions on that," Ianto responded.

Gwen pondered for a moment. "Do you think the invisible list will be invisible to androids? They haven't got human perceptions, after all."

"Should be," Ianto replied confidently. "It operates on a dimensional shift, not visual perception as such."

"Glad_ you_ understand it," Gwen muttered. "Give me a minute then, I'll send them up a distraction. Get as close to the lift as you can and be ready to run."

Ianto worked his way around to the spot where he knew the lift was concealed and waited.

"Ready?" Gwen's voice sounded in his earpiece.

"I'm as close as I can get without them seeing me," he confirmed.

"Here goes," Gwen muttered.

Within minutes, a series of tiny explosions sprayed out from the spot where the lift was hidden. The surrounding Santas fell in a neat row. Ianto charged into the gap and onto the stone that marked the lift, which immediately began its descent. He smiled with relief, and not a little appreciation. Gwen was on the lift too, a modern version of a Valkyrie. Leather jacket tightly fastened, firearms in both hands, firing on the Santas as the lift descended. With a pile of spare weapons at her feet. Ianto snatched two of his own and began accounting for the androids who were moving to fill the spaces left vacant by their destroyed colleagues.

"You're hit," Gwen exclaimed in concern, as they stepped off the lift into the relative safety of the Hub.

"Just a graze," Ianto assured her. "From the first lot."

Gwen examined the spot beneath the bloody tear in his shirt. "Still bleeding," she scolded. "I'll get something to clean it up. See what you can do about jamming those things," she waved vaguely at the monitor. "There's been something blocking everything I've tried."

Ianto was so intent on deciphering the data bombarding the screen he hardly felt the sting of the antiseptic as Gwen cleaned and bandaged his wound. Though he had winced when she'd torn away the sleeve of his shirt.

"I think," he said finally. "That the blockage is an incoming message. Only I can't decipher it." He slapped the console in frustration. "It could be someone trying to help, for all I know."

Gwen squeezed into his side so they could both see the screen. The data still didn't make any sense to her. "Who'd be trying to help us?" she asked, frustrated. Then her eyes widened.

Ianto looked back at her with the same realization dawning. "The Doctor?" they said together.

"Not that it helps much," Gwen added. "If we can't decode the message."

Ianto frowned. "If it_ is_ him – I know where Jack keeps the encryption key."

Gwen poked his shoulder. "So? Go get it then."

Ianto chewed his lower lip. "Jack doesn't know I know," he confessed.

Gwen sighed. "Never work with a couple," she muttered, then flinched at the stab of pain that registered on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he tried to smile. "Nothing, really."

Gwen's hand landed on his shoulder, twisting him around to face her.

"But you are a couple," she insisted. "It's not just a bit of fun between you anymore, is it?"

He looked into a pair of dark eyes that had suddenly become demanding.

"Not to me," he confessed. "But…."

Gwen swatted his uninjured arm. "Not to him either, you twit. And if you keep on doubting him, you'll lose him." She turned abruptly back to the screen, leaving Ianto wondering how something that sounded like friendly concern felt vaguely like a warning. Or a threat.

"Get the encryption key, Ianto," Gwen said firmly, not looking at him, probably feeling every bit as uncomfortable as he was. "It's our only hope of knocking those things out. And," she delivered the clincher, "We can't go after Jack until they're neutralized."

The incoming message contained a string of numbers – the sought after frequency the androids were being controlled from. They flooded the channel with white noise and watched the Santas on the CCTV drop like rows of wheat before the reapers. And the incoming news feed showed the same thing happening in London.

"Holy hell," Gwen exclaimed, pulling sharply out of their victory hug. "Look at that."

The news feed showed an alien vessel hanging in the skies over London. A long, narrow cylinder, engine outlets flaring at each end.

"Only to be expected," Ianto said, "It was a Christmas star a couple of years ago."

"We're being invaded by a Christmas cracker," Gwen grumbled. "There's just no bloody dignity in this job, is there?"

_Hope this was fun…Any suggestions as to what the dudes inside the Cracker look like?_


	3. Christmas part 3

**This chapter comes with a Fluff warning. Don't know what go into me. **

When Jack came back to life, he was lying on the couch in the Hub. Bloodstained bullet holes dotted his shirt. His head was on Ianto's lap, gentle hands soothing away the headache he often woke to. Not the worst awakening he'd had. Not by a long way.

"You're back then," Ianto said. "Took your time, didn't you?"

Jack was relieved to note the lack of urgency in Ianto's voice. Obviously the threat had passed. Or been neutralized. Which, Jack concluded lazily, meant there was no hurry to wake up. The only way this could be better was if they were in the bunker. Merry Christmas, Jack.

"Shh," Jack murmured, cracking one eye open. Nice view. Ianto's shirt was missing a sleeve, and he had very nice biceps. And given where his head was resting, if he just moved a little bit _that _way, things could become very interesting. "Don't tell anyone. Or they'll all want one."

"Too late," Gwen's voice. So she was still here. Guess the threat hadn't vanished after all. Damn.

"You got the frequency then," Jack said, opening the other eye. "Good work."

Gwen's face appeared in his field of vision. Upside down. "We're good," she agreed.

Ianto flicked her a grateful glance. But she'd already decided it would be unwise to say anything to Jack about the encryption code Ianto had provided. If they were going to bring couple stuff into work, Gwen thought virtuously, they could sort it out themselves. She was staying clear. "And there weren't any more of them," Gwen continued. "Not in Cardiff anyway. Just the ones in and around your restaurant, and the mob around the Hub. But there were loads in London. And a spaceship of unidentified origin. Didn't land though. It's still just hanging there. Something must have stopped it."

"Or someone," Ianto added. "I think we can guess Who." He helped Jack into a sitting position and moved away before Jack could stop him. Damn. He always got bent out of shape when the Doctor was mentioned. Doesn't he know by now, Jack thought with annoyance, that I'll always come back?

Gwen took the seat Ianto had vacated. "Everything OK?" she asked, eyebrows rising at Ianto's rapid retreat. Silly boy. Insecure, guilty_ and_ annoyed. Poor Jack.

Jack smiled. "Everything's fine. Or it will be." His smile warmed further. He could never resist responding to the thinly disguised worship in Gwen's eyes. It always raised his spirits, bolstered his ego. Not for the first time, he considered how easy it would be to take her up on the unspoken invitation. Once, many lifetimes ago, he'd have done exactly that.

But he knew better now. The person Gwen saw when she looked at Jack was an illusion. A hero she'd created for herself. All about the façade, nothing really to do with the man inside. If they got together they'd last about as long it as it took for her to realize that 51st century pheromones didn't stop his socks from smelling bad by the end of the day. Or that he snored when he slept on his back. Or that his manners really were atrocious. All of which Ianto took with a grain of detergent, an elbow, and an eye roll. Respectively.

And if it came down to it, Jack mused, Gwen wouldn't choose him anyway. She knew Rhys was by far the better man for her. Exactly the way, Jack thought contentedly, that I know Ianto's better for me that the Doctor ever would be, ever _could_ be.

The realization settled into his brain with all the impact of a bullet. I'm her _Doctor_. How about that? Oh well, it_ is_ Christmas. What better time of year for an epiphany?

"Message coming through," Ianto called from across the Hub. Jack noticed that he'd either found a spare shirt or magically reattached the old sleeve. Butler magic.

Ianto frowned at the screen as Gwen and Jack appeared on either side of him. "Time-stamped three hours ago," he told them. "It's taken a while to get here."

Jack shrugged. "Whoever sent the Santas was probably jamming comms too."

Gwen and Ianto exchanged glances. The message with the frequency had gotten through OK. Then again, it might have been the frequency message itself that jammed everything else.

Screen snow resolved into a familiar figure. The breath caught in Jack's throat and he cursed internally. He knew Ianto had heard the involuntary betrayal. Jack's arm snaked around Ianto's waist, trapping they younger man in place as backed away from the image on the screen. Spiky hair, pinstriped suit. The Doctor.

"Hope this gets to you in time," the Doctor said hurriedly, eyes darting everywhere apart from the screen he was speaking to. "There's a Christmas invasion on the way, again. What is it about London and Christmas? I'm on it, but you might get some visitors. Torchwood's getting a bit of a reputation. Looks like they're going to attempt to neutralize you before they land in London. Transmitting their comms frequency separately. Usual encryption, Jack. Jam it for me, would you? Bit busy up here." The Doctor vanished momentarily as smoke billowed behind him, and then reappeared with a smudge of soot across his cheek and a mallet in his hand. "Couldn't risk sending it to Unit, you know them, they might decide to use the Santas themselves." The transmission ceased. No goodbye. No good luck.

Torchwood looked at each other. "We've got a reputation," Jack said gleefully.

"Explains the Santas in Cardiff," Gwen commented.

"And why they weren't chasing anyone else," Ianto agreed.

Gwen sighed with relief. "So Rhys will be safe then? I haven't been able to get hold of him. I've been," her voice shook. "I've been so scared for him."

Jack smiled at her. Devoted to her job, slight case of hero-worship for the boss, but she knew who her priority was. "Go home to him, Gwen," he ordered. "That ship's still in the sky over London. This could blow up again any minute. Get some rest while you can." He winked. "And some Rhys."

A grin spread across her face, then faltered. "But you two didn't get to eat," she protested faintly.

Ianto and Jack looked at each other. "Pizza," they chorused.

Jack frowned suddenly, looking back at the screen. "Pity his message with the frequency didn't get through. It would have saved you the effort."

Gwen and Ianto looked at each other with guilt clearly written on both faces. "It did," Ianto confessed.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "How did you decode it?"

Ianto flushed. "I found your encryption key," he confessed.

Jack grinned. The extremely well hidden encryption key. No wonder Ianto looked so guilty. This was going to be fun.

Gwen cleared her throat. "I'm off then. Merry Christmas, boys." She hugged Ianto, kissed him in a sisterly fashion on the cheek. Much longer embrace for Jack, not nearly so sisterly. Ianto left them to it and ordered the pizza.

"Just happened across it, huh?" Jack materialized at Ianto's shoulder as he hung up the phone.

Ianto turned to face him and looked away as soon as he saw the Jack's expression. Not happy. He couldn't _move_ away, because Jack had him pinned to the desk. Not a bad thing, usually. But, in the circumstances, a bit of distance might have been helpful.

Jack forced his face to maintain the stern expression. "Just happened across it in my office?" he prompted, using his most casual voice.

Ianto shuffled his feet, trying to edge away and failing spectacularly. "Yep."

"Under the desk?" Jack continued, coaxing a frown onto his face.

"That's right," Ianto agreed, arms crossing defensively.

"Beneath that loose floorboard?"

"Yeah." Ianto was beginning to get annoyed.

"Inside a safe?" Jack concluded. "With a combination lock."

Ianto braced both hands against Jack's chest and shoved. "Damn it, Jack, you know where it was. Stop this."

Jack pulled Ianto into his arms and dissolved into laughter. "You sneaky little Welshman. Is there anything you don't know about in this building?"

"Not much," Ianto agreed, returning the embrace warmly. "So you're not angry then?" he added hopefully.

Jack chuckled. "If I didn't want you getting into that safe, I'd hardly have used your birth date as the combination, would I?"

An expression of surprise flitted across Ianto's face. "I didn't know the combination," he admitted. "I used Tosh's electronic lock pick."

"Sneaky," Jack repeated. "And resourceful."

"And I found it ages ago," Ianto added. Since Jack _wasn't_ angry, he couldn't help bragging, just a bit.

"Oh really?" Jack responded. "And why did you go hunting in the first place?"

"My diary was missing. I thought you might have taken it, so I went looking." He looked at Jack accusingly. "And you did have it. You gave it back to me, remember? After you'd read it. So who's the sneaky one, really?"

Jack laughed again. "Both of us," he decided. The door buzzer sounded. "Pizza's here," he announced.

They sat companionably on either end of the couch, pizza box open between them. Making the most of what was probably the calm before the storm. The Christmas Cracker spaceship was still out there, after all. Ianto was on his third slice. Jack was still toying with his first. His eyes had hardly left Ianto's face since they'd sat down. He was remembering his epiphany. If Jack was Gwen's Doctor, it followed that Jack had a Rhys, didn't it? Sitting across from him. Eating pizza and looking progressively more annoyed.

Ianto finally threw down the pizza. "What?" he demanded.

"Hmmm?"

"You're giving me indigestion," Ianto complained. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Give you three guesses," Jack answered, smiling slowly.

"It's not that," Ianto said witheringly. "I know _that _look. This is different."

"I was wondering," Jack said, "Why you weren't bothered when Gwen kissed me tonight."

Ianto shrugged and retrieved his pizza. "I thought it annoys you when I get jealous."

"Doesn't usually stop you though. Doesn't stop you turning green whenever the Doctor's mentioned. Yep, there you go, green. What's different with Gwen?"

"Earlier tonight," Ianto said uncomfortably, "you were accusing me of enjoying angst. Is this payback?"

Jack leaned forward, eyes intense. "I really want to know."

Ianto sighed. "She belongs to Rhys, heart and soul. Anyone can see that. She might think she wants you, but she'd run a mile if you tried anything."

Jack's eyes widened. Definitely a night for epiphanies. That, too, had hit home. What would he do, if the Doctor ever looked at him the way he'd only ever done in daydreams? Run, yep, well, maybe walk – walking was more dignified - straight back to Ianto. And it had taken him all this time to realize it.

"You can see that, but you can't see the parallel?" Somewhat unfair, considering he'd only just worked it out himself.

"Huh?"

Jack's smile spread. "You're my Rhys, Ianto Jones."

And of all the reactions he might have expected, being slapped across the head with a pizza wasn't one of them.

"Apart from the fact that you're comparing me to a man who's never managed to make a tie to his shirt," Ianto raged. "You've let me, all this time, feel like an…an…an afterthought….a…, a convenience…a….a."

"A blip?" Jack suggested helpfully, unable to resisting provoking him further. The part of Jack that always got him into trouble thought it was hysterically funny seeing the usually calm and controlled Welshman having a hissy fit. The rest of him knew he'd probably pay for it later.

"And a hobby," Ianto finished angrily. "Along with pizza," at which he threw a fresh slice dripping with cheese. It bounced off Jack's cheek and hit the floor. "And saving the Earth."

Jack flushed guiltily. It wasn't quite as funny any more. "You heard that, did you?" he asked, carefully moving the pizza out of reach.

"No," Ianto said sarcastically, "I picked it up through the psychic network."

Jack sighed. "I can explain," he offered, with patently false meekness.

Ianto crossed his arms and glared.

"Any list of my favorite things," Jack said carefully, "Would have to include you."

Ianto eyed him suspiciously, obviously waiting for the punch-line. Jack stared back with an expression of wide-eyed innocence, knowing anything he said would only dig him in deeper.

"Rhys, huh?" Ianto said eventually, the glare softening. "Why Rhys in particular?"

"He's the one she always goes home to," Jack explained.

"So?"

Jack squirmed uncomfortably. Sentiment embarrassed him, one of the reasons he didn't do it. Ianto knew how difficult it was for him, and usually let him get away with mere hints. Not this time, obviously. "And _you're_ the one _I'll_ always come home to," Jack finished softly, dropping his eyes.

"But I still come after the pizza," Ianto said, in a much more normal tone.

Jack looked up, wondering if Ianto realized what he'd said. Yep, smiling from ear to ear.

"After," Jack agreed, sliding across the couch and enfolding Ianto in his arms, "Before pizza, too hungry. During pizza, too messy. After." His voice became slightly muffled during to the fact that it was floating up from somewhere south of Ianto's neck.

"You've got capsicum in your hair, Jack."

"Could you just pretend it's mistletoe?" Jack asked plaintively.

"It's _red _capsicum."

Jack rose to his feet, pulling Ianto up with him. "Since you put it there," he said, "You can help wash it off."

"Sounds fair," Ianto agreed.

They were just drifting off to sleep when the Rift alert sounded.

"How about that?" Jack said, coming awake instantly. "Pizza, you, and now I get to save the world. All three in the same night."

Ianto yawned, reaching blearily for his clothes. "Merry Christmas, Jack."


	4. Christmas part 4

**Sorry it took me so long to update. No excuse (apart from the usual, but that's on my profile so I'm not going into it again!)**

"The Tardis," Jack exclaimed, stabbing a finger at the CCTV monitor. "Out on the Plass."

Ianto smiled at Jack's excitement, trying to dredge up some enthusiasm. But he knew what this meant. Jack was leaving, again. The tired old cliché from, what was it, the sixties? – floated into Ianto's mind. "If you love something, set it free…" Time to do that, then. And he'd said he'd always come back.

Ianto peered over Jack's shoulder at the monitor. "I can't see it," he said uncertainly.

"Really?" Jack's voice sounded surprised for a moment. "Oh, I guess you wouldn't. I keep forgetting. It hides itself unless you know it's there."

"He must be waiting for you, then. Here's your coat."

"Thanks," Jack said absently, enjoying the feel of Ianto's hands on his shoulders as he tweaked the collar into place. He was on the lift platform before he realized Ianto hadn't followed.

"Grab your coat, too," Jack said impatiently. "It's cold out there, in case you've forgotten."

"But, Jack," Ianto waved wordlessly at the Rift monitor.

"Oh, come on, you've got to see the Tardis."

Ianto hid a sigh. He'd wanted to avoid watching forlornly from the Plass while the Tardis vanished. But Jack looked so happy. He couldn't ruin this for him. Ianto shrugged into his coat and joined Jack on the lift.

The lift rose smoothly. Jack pointed across the Plass. "It's over there," he announced.

Ianto forced his eyes to follow the direction of Jack's arm.

"What exactly am I looking for?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, which had begun to sting.

"Police box," Jack answered. "Hell, you don't know what they are, do you? You weren't even born when they were around. Phone box then. Wooden. Blue instead of red.

Ianto stared harder. It was like looking at one of those Magic Eye things, he decided. Stare long enough and the blob turns into a dolphin. Or, in this case, the empty night turns into a blue box. His eyes began to water. He still couldn't see it. And he wasn't alone. There were several people walking past the spot Jack was pointing to. They were ignoring the Tardis in exactly the same way they'd missed noticing two men rising out of the ground.

"He's got a perception filter, too, then." Ianto realized, as they stepped off the lift.

Jack smiled fondly at the man beside him. Not everyone – actually hardly anyone – made the connection between the Tardis and the perception filter. And not having to explain the basics meant Jack would get to show off.

Only the Doctor got in first. The Tardis door opened and a voice from within called, "Actually, it's the same one. The Tardis sat on that spot once when she was injured – sorry, when it was damaged – and the chameleon circuit leached into the stone."

Hearing the voice cleared the effects of the filter from Ianto's brain. There it was, the infamous blue box that Jack had chased literally from one end of time to the other. Not, Ianto concluded, particularly impressive. Not from the outside anyway.

"OK, so I've seen it," Ianto conceded. "Can I go back into the Hub now?" He ineffectually tried to pull his arm free from Jack's grip. "I really don't fancy getting caught in the back draft when that thing takes off. Not very streamlined, is it? Probably handles like a bus."

Jack snickered at the injured expression on the Doctor's face, which had just appeared in the doorway.

"She's the finest ship in the universe," The Doctor announced defensively. "Bring him aboard, Jack. I've got her reputation to save. And the Earth, too, but that can wait."

Ianto raised his eyebrows. "Saving the Earth can wait?" he spluttered.

Jack nudged him. "If the Doctor says it can wait, it can. In fact, it probably has to. Come on."

Ianto's eyes widened with fascination as he entered the strange craft. "Bigger on the inside," he murmured, looking around in wonder.

The Doctor smiled approvingly. "I do love it when they say that," he said happily.

"More dimensional shifting – err… stuff." Ianto commented, fumbling for the right words.

The Doctor slapped Jack on the back. "He's good," he announced.

Jack grinned. "I know."

"And he didn't run outside and bash on the walls," the Doctor added.

"Are the walls even real?" Ianto asked curiously.

The Doctor chuckled. "Even _you_ never thought to ask that one," he commented.

Ianto frowned; annoyed at the way they were talking around him. He felt like the Teaboy again. He wasn't used to that anymore and he was surprised to realize he didn't like it. "I'm right here," he said pointedly. "For the moment, anyway."

"Ah, Doctor?" Jack said awkwardly, realizing introductions were well overdue. "This is Ianto Jones. From Torchwood."

The Doctor smiled vaguely, waving a hand in the air instead of offering it for shake. Then his eyes focused sharply. "Saw you on the subwave network, didn't I?"

Ianto nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Thanks for your help," The Doctor said earnestly, fixing Ianto with a pair of very intelligent brown eyes. "Wouldn't have gotten the Earth back without you."

"You're welcome, Sir" Ianto muttered, feeling awkward.

The Doctor smiled. "Quite formal, isn't he?"

"Just polite," Jack said, a shade protectively.

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "I see. Like that, hmmm?" He grinned at Ianto suddenly.

"I suppose I should thank you for lending me Jack, too," he added. "He's very useful at times, have you noticed?"

And from the depths of his own embarrassment, Ianto realized he'd never seen Jack blush before.

The Doctor chuckled at them both and returned to the central control console. "Right. Back to London, then. Close the doors, Jack."

Ianto beat Jack to the door, where they had a furious, low-voiced argument.

"Where the hell are you going?" Jack hissed, hauling him out of the doorway.

"I'm not staying," Ianto told him. "We can't leave the Rift unattended. Not with aliens hanging in the sky. Who knows what else is going to come through?"

"Damn it, Ianto," Jack growled. "You're just been invited to travel in the Tardis. Do you know how rare that is?"

Ianto looked at him stubbornly. "This is what you do, not me. You run off with the Doctor, I stay behind and pick up the pieces. I'll probably just get in the way. Go on, don't draw it out. Just let me out, and go." He smiled a tiny smile. "Don't worry. You've convinced me you'll come back. If you can."

Jack looked at him helplessly. Ianto started to move away.

"Please?" Jack said, almost too softly to hear.

Ianto froze. "Don't, Jack."

"I have to go," Jack said, his voice rough. "But I don't want to. Not without you. Not again. Come with me."

"Jack," the Doctor said impatiently. "Door." The Tardis began to whoosh. "Time Machine," the Doctor added loudly.

Jack grinned. Of course. "The Rift will be fine, Ianto. We'll only be gone five minutes."

Ianto turned to face him, expression confused. "I know you're good, Jack, but saving the Earth in five minutes?"

"The Tardis travels in time as well as space. No matter how long it takes, the Doctor will bring us back right after we leave. OK?" Ianto frowned. "Trust me?" Jack added.

Ianto sighed. "Well, if you're going to put it like that."

Ianto stood well back as the Doctor dashed from one end of the control console to the other. He didn't want to get in the way. He watched Jack carefully tweaking a lever here, twisting a knob there. All in all, he was finding his first spaceship something of a disappointment. The control console looked like something a child would put together, if they were building a spaceship out of the contents of their garbage bin. Ianto was pretty sure there was a bicycle pump in one panel. Disorganized. Not what he'd expected at all.

On the other hand, the column he was leaning against was amazing. It felt…it actually felt like it was alive. Almost as if it was talking to him. Or not talking. Thinking at him, perhaps. Or _feeling _at him. Odd. Very odd. But kind of pleasant.

On the other side of the console, the Doctor and Jack looked at each other curiously."

"The Tardis likes him," The Doctor commented.

Jack shifted uneasily. "I saw him first," he said, with an attempt at humor.

The Doctor looked back at him with raised eyebrows. "He's not my type, Jack."

"I just thought," Jack said awkwardly, "that, well, Donna's gone." He winced as the Doctor's face contorted in pain for an instant, then hurried on. "You'll be looking for someone else, and if the Tardis likes Ianto, well…"

"I travel alone, now, Jack," the Doctor said firmly. "You were there; you heard what Dalek Caan said. I'm not good for the people I travel with. No more companions."

Jack looked at him curiously. "Then what are we doing here?"

"This is a one-off," the Doctor said firmly. "Just need a hand sorting the Phalasians out. They want to deal with a representative of Earth. You're the first one I thought of."

"I'm not sure that I qualify," Jack said carefully.

"You've lived here longer than any other human," the Doctor pointed out with inescapable logic. "And I'm not good with Prime Ministers anymore. Not since Churchill, come to think of it. I got Harriet Jones all wrong. Deposed her. And Saxon – I didn't even pick up on that. I could have seen her Majesty, I suppose, but she always wants to involve the Prime Minister anyway. Protocol."

The Tardis lurched. "We're here," The Doctor announced, slapping at a monitor screen, which promptly turned from snow to an image of the Christmas Cracker spaceship.

"Where's here?" Ianto asked, moving hesitantly towards the screen.

"London," the Doctor answered. "Level with the Phalasian ship. You two," he added, "are going to lead the negotiations. We need a peace treaty. I'll help."

Ianto bit his lip. "You want us to negotiate with the people who sent the Santas to kill us?"

"Well, of course," the Doctor said, sounding surprised. "Who else? If they didn't respect you, they wouldn't have tried to get rid of you in the first place."

Ianto's mouth opened again, closing with a snap as Jack's elbow dug into his ribs. "Just go with it," Jack said softly. "It'll all make sense. Trust him. I do."

**Hope you enjoyed. If you didn't, please tell me that too!**


	5. Christmas part 5

**Slightly fluffy again, but no apologies this time. There is a reason for it. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy**

As the hours passed, Ianto concluded he'd rather be watching the Rift. He now understood completely why the Doctor had said saving the world could wait. Whoever or whatever the invaders were, they were taking their time instigating negotiations.

"Phalasians are very formal," the Doctor remarked at one point, when he was taking a break from a largely unintelligible conversation he'd been having via an archaic-looking phone handset. "It's going to be a while before we're invited to board, I'm afraid. And it was night when I picked you up, wasn't it? Why don't you get some sleep while you're waiting?"

"Might not be a bad idea," Jack agreed, carefully not smirking. He didn't want to embarrass Ianto in front of the Doctor again. Or himself, for that matter. But he_ really_ liked the idea. His room on the Tardis was bigger than his bunker in Torchwood. And better equipped.

"How long is it going to take, Sir?" Ianto asked, determinedly ignoring the glances Jack was shooting at him.

The Doctor ran a hand distractedly though his hair. "I'm still introducing you," he admitted. "I'm making progress though. They've agreed that you both demonstrated sufficient courage against their advance forces to accept you as um 'worthy representatives of the planet' was what they said, I think. So that's a good start. You obviously impressed them. And I," he added, looking pointedly at Jack, "am impressed that you managed to disable the Santas without getting anyone killed."

"Except himself," Ianto said in what wasn't quite an undertone.

"Something's having a good influence on you," the Doctor concluded, as though he hadn't heard Ianto. But his eyes were twinkling. "Or some_one_."

The archaic phone rang shrilly. The Doctor sighed. "Back to it, then. But as I said, this'll take a while. Plenty of empty rooms in the guest wing. And your old room's still there, Jack, just as you left it." He picked up the handset and flicked a decidedly cheeky grin back over his shoulder at Jack. "But I do mean actual sleep," he elaborated. "You won't get a chance to rest after the Phalasians invite us across."

Ianto's faced flamed. Jack dragged him off along a corridor before he had a chance to answer. The last thing he'd expected was to be heading off a fight between Ianto and the Doctor.

"What's your problem?" Jack demanded.

"Problem?" Ianto returned innocently. "Me?"

"You," Jack shot back, stopping suddenly. "No, don't answer yet. An entire pack of hunting dogs has nothing on the Doctor's ears when you don't want him overhearing."

"And mine are less hairy," floated after them from the control room.

"See? Get in here." Jack pulled open a door and tugged Ianto inside, slamming it behind them.

"Stop hauling me around, would you?" Ianto asked breathlessly. He'd nearly tripped over a pile of books near the doorway.

"Then stop dragging you feet," Jack snapped back. He glanced around the room they were in. "Library," he identified. "It's moved since the last time I was here."

"And grown a swimming pool," Ianto added incredulously, staring at the large rectangular pool surrounded by towering bookshelves.

"There's always been a swimming pool in the library," Jack explained, momentarily distracted.

"Doesn't the moisture make the books moldy?" Ianto asked curiously.

"I don't know and I don't care," Jack answered. "Now what's _with_ you? You're on the most amazing spacecraft in the universe and you've done nothing but bitch since you got here."

"I don't have a problem with the Tardis," Ianto said defensively. "She…it's a nice ship. A bit disorganized, but that's not her fault."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "You don't like the Doctor? That's insane, Ianto. Everyone likes the Doctor. Hell, most people _love_ the Doctor."

Ianto's eyes rolled extravagantly. "Of course _you'd_ say that."

Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly. This wasn't working out the way he'd anticipated and he was getting seriously annoyed. Ianto was absolutely infuriating sometimes. Gorgeous, yes, but infuriating.

"I know you were angry at me for going off with the Doctor and leaving you behind," Jack said, trying to stay calm, but with the volume of his voice rising at every word. "But I haven't left you this time. I thought you'd be pleased. Hell, I actually thought you'd enjoy it."

"Of course," Ianto agreed sarcastically. "You did all this for me. Nothing to do with your hero snapping his fingers and you rushing to his side like a well trained puppy, was it?"

Jack's mouth dropped open as he tried to think of a response.

"And of course I'd enjoy seeing you being treated like the hired help, wouldn't I?"

By now Jack was giving a creditable impersonation of a goldfish. Mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. This was crazy. And it was the second time tonight Ianto had launched into a hissy fit. And he knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't help thinking how damn _cute _Ianto looked when he was angry.

"I'm not denying he's a hero," Ianto continued, well into his own tirade now, totally oblivious to the glint that had appeared in Jack's eyes. "I know he's saved the Earth a hundred times over. And I know that if he wants help obviously we have to give it, but I expected him to be a bit more _polite_ about it."

Jack began to laugh helplessly. "Polite? Ianto, the Earth's being invaded again, the Doctor's somehow managed to stop the invasion and start negotiations and you're worried about _manners_?"

Ianto waved an imperious arm in the general direction of the control room. It was unfortunate for his argument that the movement drew Jack's attention to the way his bicep flexed beneath his sleeve.

"Those things that invaded." Ianto continued. He frowned, trying to remember what the Doctor had called them.

"Phalasians," Jack supplied, quite impressed that he was still keeping up with the conversation, considering that most of his mind was occupied with working out the quickest way to the guest wing. Not easy, because if the library had moved, the guest bedrooms might have as well.

"Whatever," Ianto snapped. "He's spent hours playing nice with them. And from what he said I bet they wouldn't even have opened negotiations if we hadn't wiped out the advance forces. But he didn't even thank you for jamming the signal."

"It was you and Gwen that jammed the signal," Jack pointed out, trying to focus back on the discussion, such as it was. "And _I _didn't thank either of you for it." Which, he thought with satisfaction, should be the end of it.

"I'm sure you would have, if you hadn't died so I could get away," Ianto shot back. "Which the Doctor didn't even acknowledge."

Jack sighed. Obviously logic wasn't going to work. Maybe he should just let him go until he ran out. Or maybe he could distract him. Distraction was definitely more appealing. And if he remembered correctly, the other exit from the library opened onto same hallway as the guest wing. Maybe it still did. Worth checking anyway. He took Ianto's hand in his own and began leading him slowly around the pool to the other doorway, fighting back laughter at the fact that the younger man was so embroiled in his own argument he hadn't even noticed he was moving.

"And he just landed on the Plass and assumed you'd drop everything and coming running to help. Which you did. He takes you for granted. And you let him."

They were in the hallway. His old room was three doors down to the left. Jack grinned broadly and pulled Ianto into his arms. "Ianto Jones, are you defending my honor?"

Ianto sighed in defeat. He was standing in the doorway of a bedroom. How the hell had that happened? "What's left of it," he mumbled. "Assuming you had any to begin with." His mistake, he concluded, was letting Jack get his arms around him. Ianto's brain tended to shut down approximately the same instant Jack touched him. And this really was a very comfortable room he'd suddenly found himself in. Much bigger than the bunker.

"Nice room," Ianto commented appreciatively. "Where's yours?"

Jack's expression turned slightly stricken. "This _is_ mine," he mumbled.

"Really?" Ianto said, "Which one's mine then?"

He managed to maintain his expression of innocent enquiry for a full five seconds before collapsing onto the bed in laughter.

"Come here you daft sod," he gasped eventually. It was a very comfortable bed. Didn't even bounce much when Jack joined him in it. And he really did need to sleep – well, not right away. Soon. Or maybe later. Much later. Actually, he wasn't really that tired at all.

-XXXX-

Jack woke in the quiet darkness, experiencing one of those rare moments of realization that life is exactly the way you want it to be. Far easier done in hindsight, he reflected, as he listened contentedly to the thrum of the Tardis, feeling Ianto's breath flutter against his skin. Easy to look back and think, I was so happy _then._ Much harder to recognize that actually, I'm happy right now. He closed his eyes, trying to summon back sleep, wanting the draw out the moment as long as he could.

But sleep wouldn't be summoned, and with wakefulness came the demands of responsibility. The Earth still needed saving. Jack reluctantly disentangled himself from his lover and dressed silently in the dark, leaving Ianto asleep as he made his way back to the central cabin.

The Doctor looked up from dismembering a spacesuit. "Oh Jack, good, you can help," he announced. "We need the magnetic boots off these things. Atmosphere on the Phalasian ship will be fine, but they don't have any floors as such. We'll have to stick to the walls."

"Literally, I assume," Jack agreed, holding one boot steady while the Doctor hacked at the surrounding material with what looked like a machete. A small one. "Wouldn't a laser saw work better?" Jack asked mildly, ducking back as a vigorous blow from the machete slashed through the material and across where his face had been moments before.

The Doctor huffed. "Well obviously, if I had one, but as I don't.."

Jack drew a laser saw from his pocket and handed it over with a flourish. "For you," he said grandly, "from Torchwood. Merry Christmas."

"You're different, Jack," the Doctor observed, looking intently at the beam of laser light as he traced it around the top of the boot.

Jack shrugged, pulling away and discarding the excess material as the Doctor freed it. "The pressures of responsibility, I suppose. Blame yourself. You made me grow a conscience."

The Doctor smiled; tossed aside the boot they'd freed and pulled another towards them.

"I meant," he clarified, "you seem to be, well, happier. It's good."

"Yeah, Torchwood suits me," Jack agreed. "Though, it's been tough lately. Lost two of the team." His throat closed briefly.

"One of the worst things about immortality," the Doctor agreed, "is the way those mortals just don't last long enough. Best not to get too attached, really."

"Is that in the nature of a warning?" Jack asked suspiciously, as they began on the second suit.

"No idea what you mean," the Doctor responded. "You can have this set, Jack. The first one got torn a bit. It should fit you; you've used my suits before." He paused while they cleared the workspace and began on the final set.

"Where's that friend of yours, by the way?" the Doctor asked. "We should make sure his fit properly. Can't have him falling out of them. Like I said, no floors."

"Ianto? He's asleep," Jack answered. "Or he was when I left."

"Which room did you give him?" the Doctor enquired, looking intently at the path of the laser.

"Why no floors?" Jack asked, changing the subject with a complete lack of finesse.

"No legs," the Doctor answered. He didn't need to push the point. The evasion told him quite enough. "A bit like jellyfish," he elaborated. "But they use their tentacles mostly for arms. They tend to float."

"The Earth's been threatened by jellyfish?" Ianto asked incredulously from behind them.

"Fluffy jellyfish," the Doctor explained. "Well it looks like fluff but it's technically a mineral layer. Crystals. They collect a kind of mineral armor, for protection, like a hermit crab collects shells. And they float. So they don't need floors."

Ianto wandered over to stand beside Jack. "I'm sorry," he said, "For every time I've accused you of being obtuse."

"See for yourself, if you like," the Doctor offered, waving at the screen which seemed to be growing out of the console, "We've got visual inside the ship now."

Ianto and Jack looked curiously at the screen. It was a bit, Ianto thought, like looking at an aquarium, except there was no water. Or maybe a fishmonger's. Given that they seemed to have been dipped in batter.

"The Christmas invasion this year," Ianto commented, "consists of a Christmas cracker filled with tempura prawns."

"Tempura squid," Jack corrected. "Prawns don't have tentacles."

The Doctor smiled brightly. "And you're about to start negotiating with them."

"Gwen's right," Ianto concluded. "There's no dignity in our job."


	6. Christmas part 6

**The boots are important, I promise.**

"Too big," the Doctor announced, from his vantage point somewhere around Ianto's ankles.

Ianto felt ridiculous. He was sitting in the middle of a shabby bench near the console, trying on what looked like a spacesuit with no suit attached. Hulking great heavy boots that kept trying to slide off his feet and onto the metal grating beneath. It took him back to his childhood, sitting like this in a shoe shop while being fitted for his first pair of school shoes. His father had subsequently teased him about his 'dainty feet' through most of his childhood.

"You could try turning the magnetic circuit off," Jack suggested, dropping to his knees next to the Doctor. He flashed Ianto a decidedly wicked grin, summoning up some very inappropriate memories, and quite unnecessarily ran his hand around the top of the boot, his fingers brushing deliberately across the skin of Ianto's leg.

"Stop that," the Doctor said firmly, detaching Jack's hand and throwing it back at him. Jack chuckled. "And having the circuit on is important," the Doctor continued. "If the boots slide off now they'll do it over there too. Can't have that."

"I could just stay here," Ianto suggested. He'd been feeling like a fifth wheel the whole time anyway. Every passing minute made it more obvious how in tune with each other Jack and the Doctor were. They almost seemed to know what the other was thinking, resulting in some very choppy conversations as they leapt from one thought to another. Ianto had only been floundering along in their wake, anyway. He'd come to the conclusion this would be working better if he'd stayed behind in the Hub. He might even have been of some use, back there. Instead, here he was delaying the start of negotiations because the tacky boots didn't fit.

Ianto sighed. It was very disheartening, considering the number of times in the past he'd wished Jack had taken him along on his other trips. Be careful what you wish for, he reminded himself, or you might get it. And he was trotting out the clichés again.

But the Doctor was shaking his head vigorously. He dusted himself off and dropped down onto the seat beside Ianto. "Did you really want to leave the negotiations up to him?" he asked disparagingly, jerking a thumb at Jack, who was still sprawled on the floor.

"Hey," Jack protested, getting up and claiming the spot on the other side of Ianto.

"Considering his favorite negotiating strategy is to run in waving the biggest gun he can find," the Doctor continued, ignoring Jack's wounded expression completely.

Ianto couldn't stop a grin creeping across his face. Jack saw it and pouted.

"I have had to smooth things over with the Prime Minister a few times," Ianto agreed. Jack's pout turned into a scowl.

"We've managed this invasion with relatively little bloodshed so far," the Doctor concluded, still ignoring Jack, looking almost pleadingly at Ianto instead. "And I'd really like to keep it that way, for once. Will you help?"

At which point Ianto wondered if anyone had ever refused a plea delivered with the force of those brown eyes behind it. Puppies wanting walkies had nothing on it.

"Course I will," Ianto mumbled, completely lost.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have been quite gratified at Jack's expression at the moment. Jealous. Murderously so.

"Oh, stop it," the Doctor told Jack impatiently. "No chance, even if I'd wanted one. Which I don't, by the way. Just in case you needed to hear me say it."

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Your loss," he said.

"Poaching," the Doctor said airily, "Is not my style."

And Ianto wondered gloomily what he'd missed, this time.

The Doctor regarded Ianto thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. "Socks," he announced.

"Socks?" Ianto repeated.

"Several pairs," the Doctor decided. "And maybe a bandage or two. Wardrobe, Jack. Find socks. I'll get bandages." And he was gone.

Jack grinned, taking the opportunity to press a kiss onto Ianto's forehead. "Hang in there," he murmured comfortingly. "It'll make sense eventually. Might even be fun. You stay here, OK?"

"Where are you going?" Ianto asked dejectedly.

"You heard the man, I'm on sock patrol. Back soon."

"It's not like he's a small man," the Doctor commented, "Would have expected bigger feet." Against Ianto's protests of "I can do it myself," the Doctor was back on the floor, drawing yet another pair of socks onto Ianto's feet. Red ones. Of course Jack had only brought back red socks. Dozens of them. And Ianto had decided he didn't want to know why the Doctor needed that many pairs of red socks. The explanation would probably just give him a headache. And The Doctor, Defender of the Earth, Earth's Champion, was on the floor at Ianto's feet, helping him into his socks. It was humiliating. And Jack making it worse.

"Actually, it's only to be expected," Jack commented. "Considering."

"Considering what?" the Doctor asked curiously

"Old Earth saying," Jack continued, smirking wickedly. "Regarding what small feet might indicate."

"Shut up, Jack," Ianto said ominously.

"And help me get the boots on again," the Doctor ordered. They took one foot each and hauled the boots over the layers of socks. The magnetic circuit kicked in again as they fastened the straps. The boots didn't slide off this time, but they shook uncomfortably.

"Not right yet," the Doctor decided. "Boots off, Jack, I'll try the bandages."

And now he was wrapping bandages around Ianto's instep. "It's not so much small feet," the Doctor diagnosed, "But they're quite narrow, aren't they? Slender."

Jack looked up at Ianto, tears of mirth in his eyes. "As I said, only to be expected. Feet are reflective of…"

At which point Ianto's hand closed over his mouth. "Don't you dare," Ianto growled.

"But you're so cute when you blush," Jack snickered.

The Doctor looked in obvious confusion from the furious Welshman to the laughing American. "Domestics," he sighed. "I could never get the hang of domestics."

-XXXX-

Entering the alien ship was disorienting. Ianto knew he was standing upright in the Tardis, but 'up' in this new vessel was ninety degrees to his left. He watched Jack and the Doctor perform a crablike shuffle that ended up with their magnetic boots safely lodged against the side of the ship, and copied them. The shudder as the powerful magnets connected echoed through his whole body, making his teeth rattle in his head. Neither of the others had experienced that problem, but then, their boots fitted properly. Ianto's boots weren't trying to slide off anymore, but they were still shifting slightly within the layers of material around his feet.

Jack steadied him as the second boot connected with the same effect. "OK?" he asked.

"Of course," Ianto said impatiently. He didn't mind Jack being concerned about him, but did he have to be so obvious about it? He could have just grabbed his elbow. That would have been quite enough to keep him from floating away if the boots hadn't connected. Surely he didn't need to wrap an arm around his waist. And the Doctor was smirking at them again.

"Geez, sorry for asking," Jack shot back. This time the Doctor chuckled.

Ianto leaned close enough to mutter into Jack's ear.

"Stop fussing," he grumbled. "You're acting like my mother."

"Stop nagging," Jack hissed back. "You're acting like a wife."

"If you ever compare me to John Hart again, you're dumped," Ianto threatened.

"Domestics," the Doctor said to no one in particular, shaking his head, stopping the argument in its tracks.

"He said that before," Ianto remarked softly. "Is he being insulting?"

"Not intentionally," Jack answered doubtfully. "At least I don't think so."

"Here's the welcoming committee," the Doctor announced.

Two of the fluffy jellyfish were approaching, regarding them through darker patches within their upper bodies that the Doctor had assured them were eyes. But it wasn't the eyes that caught their attention, stopping the breath in their throats. The subdued lighting in the vessel reflected back from the fluffy mineral coating, splitting the light into its component colors. The aliens floated gracefully towards them in a halo of rainbows.

"They're lovely," Ianto said in surprise.

"Beautiful," Jack agreed. He took Ianto's hand in his and squeezed it. "Glad you came, now?"

Ianto nodded speechlessly.

The Doctor nodded approvingly, his eyes alight. "Time to save the Earth. With a treaty. The very best way, and it just doesn't happen enough." He looked searchingly at his companions. "Are you ready?"

They nodded.

"Here we go," the Doctor said gleefully. "Allon-sy."

**Thanks for reading. More soon, less fluff.**


	7. Christmas part 7

**As always, thanks for reading.**

The Phalasians had constructed a makeshift conference room consisting of a flimsy metal platform fixed to one wall, on which the three humans swayed in time to the motion of the ships engines. Filmy panels of an opaque material screened them from the view of the rest of the ship. "No solid walls, either," the Doctor remarked, "So as not to catch on the tentacles."

"Nice view, though," Ianto said approvingly. The wall against which their platform was located included a panoramic view-screen, currently displaying the lights of London below.

"Helps pass the time," Jack grumbled. He was bored. And annoyed.

They were still working their way through the required protocol. And the first stumbling block was Jack's name, hence his annoyance. The Phalasians insisted that 'real' names had at least two syllables.

"One for the inhale, one for the exhale, apparently," the Doctor explained, "Something to do with the way their mouths move." So Doc-tor was acceptable, as was 'Yan-tow', but Jack was yet to be considered worth talking to. His ego was bruised, and Ianto's badly concealed amusement wasn't helping in the slightest.

"It's always the little things," The Doctor sighed, as the Phalasians left them to discuss the problem. "Mind you, it might be better all round if he just doesn't say anything."

Ianto nodded, ignoring Jack's wounded expression. He couldn't waste the opportunity to get back at Jack for all the teasing about his feet.

"It's the way he opens his mouth before his brain gets into gear," Ianto explained knowledgeably.

"I do know," the Doctor agreed. "Sometimes I wonder if he shoots his mouth off because I won't let him shoot with his guns."

"I could just go back to the Tardis," Jack offered sourly. "If that wouldn't ruin your fun."

"Not so good when the boot's on the other foot, huh?" Ianto asked pointedly.

Jack threw up his hands. "I'm sorry, OK?"

The Doctor applauded softly. "Now that's an achievement. Jack Harkness apologizing. I'm impressed."

Ianto laughed. "We could see if they'll accept Hark-ness," he suggested.

"And you thought of that right at the start, didn't you?" Jack accused.

The Doctor patted Jack's arm condescendingly. "Of course we did. But breaks for consultation are a sign of respect, so it was a handy excuse. Do you want to argue about it, or shall we call them back?"

The Doctor pushed aside the flimsy material that cloaked the conference room. "Please invite Zhar-hoff and Schang-lar to rejoin us," he said to someone outside.

"How do we know which is which?" Ianto asked, watching their hosts float back towards them.

The Doctor sighed. "I wish I knew," he admitted. "Then again, we probably look alike to them as well."

Jack cleared his throat. "Not me, I'm one of a kind."

The Doctor sighed. Ianto smiled. "Well, he is," he offered.

"For which I can only be thankful," the Doctor said darkly, before performing the introductions yet again. Hark-ness was acceptable. The conference could begin.

With the demands of protocol satisfied, the Phalasians floated in and hovered at the front of the platform. "Zhar-hoff will speak," one of them announced, waving a tentacle at its colleague.

The Doctor nudged Ianto. "Sorted," he said with satisfaction.

"As long as they don't swap places," Jack muttered.

The Doctor smirked. "Good point, Jack. You can keep track of them, since you thought of it."

"Chief jellyfish wrangler," Jack grumbled. "Where's the action?"

"We don't want action," the Doctor said indignantly, "We're going for peaceful resolution, remember?"

"They're waiting." Ianto said warningly.

"Your Earth waters," Zhar-hoff, announced importantly, when the humans had stopped talking, "are rich with salt." There was a ponderous pause between each sentence and Ianto found himself wishing he'd hurry up. The alien's tentacles were swaying gracefully in time with the throb of the ships engines, and Ianto was in danger of being lulled to sleep.

"Humans do not like the salt," Zhar-hoff continued. Pause. "Salt is bad for humans. But good for us." His tentacles stroked the crystalline covering that crusted his body. "We need salt to be safe."

"We take your salt," Schang-lar cut in, tentacles waving excitedly. "Humans will be well. We will be safe."

"Has he been watching Heart Foundation commercials?" Ianto asked suspiciously.

"Quite possible," The Doctor replied. "TV signals do tend to travel a bit."

Their alien counterparts regarded the whispering humans suspiciously. The Doctor nudged Ianto. "Over to you," he urged.

Ianto looked from the Doctor to Jack in puzzlement. "Me?"

"They need a human representative to lead the negotiations," the Doctor said impatiently. "It's why I brought you here, remember? One of you has to kick things off, at least."

Ianto looked expectantly at Jack.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Waiting for my brain to get into gear before my mouth opens," he said pointedly. He was momentarily pleased at coming up with such a good payback line, but relented immediately at the panic in Ianto's eyes. "You know you're better at this stuff than I am," he said reassuringly. "You've got more patience."

Ianto took a deep, steadying breath, focusing on remembering everything the Doctor had said about Phalasian protocol. Slow, formal, one idea at a time. Not Jack's style at all, he had to admit. _I can do this_, he told himself. He marshaled his arguments, and began speaking slowly and carefully.

"The waters you speak of," Ianto commenced formally, earning a glance of approval from the Doctor, "are called oceans."

"O-shuns," the Phalasians repeated.

Well, that was encouraging, Ianto thought; at least they're paying attention.

"There is life in our oceans," he continued.

Zhar-hoff waved a single tentacle. That was good, Ianto remembered. The more tentacles waving, the more concern was being expressed. One tentacle was good.

"And that life," he concluded, "requires salt to live."

That caused a flurry of tentacles. Ianto wondered how three simple sentences could have made him sweat so much. The Phalasians consulted. "How much would you spare?" Zhar-hoff asked eventually.

"We will consider," The Doctor interjected. He backed away, signaling to Jack and Ianto to follow. They stopped just short of the filmy panels of the screen that surrounded the platform.

The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "Now the real bargaining begins," he said happily. "And we can relax the formalities a bit, so that should speed things up."

"Does that mean you can take over?" Ianto asked hopefully.

The Doctor smiled. "You're doing fine, you know. But I will if you like."

Ianto nodded vigorously.

The Doctor's smile broadened. "OK, then. What concentration does the sea-life need?"

"Exactly the one they've got," Ianto answered.

"Well that's annoying," the Doctor muttered. "What are we going to tell them?"

"That they can't have it, and to go home," Jack said impatiently, and a shade too loudly. "Earth isn't ready for this yet." Tentacles began waving. Lots of tentacles.

"How do you know Earth isn't ready if we don't try?" the Doctor said reasonably. He turned back to the Phalasians, who immediately floated forwards.

"Earth cannot allow you to remove the salt from their waters," the Doctor explained calmly. "As Yan-tow said, there is life in those waters that needs the salt to survive. And the humans need the life in the water to survive."

Tentacles waved. "Food crops," Schang-lar said knowledgeably.

"That'll do," Ianto said hastily, as the Doctor opened his mouth to expand. "Let's not start them on conservation efforts." At which his jaw dropped open. "Desalination plants!" he said excitedly.

Jack and the Doctor looked at him curiously.

"In areas of low rainfall," Ianto explained hurriedly, "They extract the salt from water and use the desalinated water for irrigation and such. Even drinking. And salt is the by-product." He nodded back at hovering aliens. "Maybe they'd be happy with that. And there's salt mines, too, we might be able to get hold of, I don't know, low quality stuff or something. If that's enough for them."

The Doctor smiled across at Jack. "He_ is_ good. Where did you find him?"

Jack smiled proudly. "He found _me_," he answered. "Lured me with a pterodactyl."

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "They don't belong in your time, do they?"

"Fell through the Rift," Ianto explained.

The Doctor frowned but made no further comment. More pressing problems at hand. Still, it was annoying. The Doctor knew exactly when the Rift had opened. He'd been there. And it was millennia after pterodactyls flew the skies. He didn't see how the prehistoric avian could have fallen through accidentally.

"I think they're getting impatient," Jack said warningly.

The Doctor rejoined the Phalasians and launched into a complicated discussion about salt quality. Jack slid his arm around Ianto's waist. "Have I told you you're brilliant?" he asked fondly.

"Never," Ianto replied.

"Consider it said."

"No," Ianto disagreed. "You've got to say it for it to be said."

Jack grinned. "You've been around the Doctor too long. You're starting to sound like him."

Ianto shuddered. "Time I got home then."

"Still not organized enough for you?" the Doctor asked. He'd appeared silently at their side, not an easy feat considering the noises the boots made when they connected.

Ianto blushed. He remembered how disparaging he'd been about the Tardis, and he regretted it now. "It's fine," he mumbled.

"You'd like Mars base," The Doctor commented. "It's said to be very scientific. I've always meant to visit. And it's all shiny and new only fifty years from now." His eyes twinkled. "You could come with me, if you like."

Jack grinned broadly. "I thought you said no more companions."

The Doctor waved a hand airily. "A one-off," he said. "Reward for your help with the Phalasians. I'll still have you back in time for Christmas. What do you say?"

Ianto grinned. "Sounds good."

"Brilliant," the Doctor said happily.

Jack nudged Ianto. "Any other Christmas wishes while Santa here is in a good mood?"

"Boots that fit?" Ianto suggested with a laugh. "I've got half a dozen pairs of socks on and my feet are sweating. It feels disgusting."

Jack and the Doctor both laughed. "That can be arranged," the Doctor said cheerfully. "We'll all need new suits for Mars anyway, since we cut up this lot."

The two Phalasians floated towards them. "Time to hammer out the details," the Doctor announced. "Ianto, they want to know more about desalination. Would you mind…." He broke off, swaying dangerously as the ship shuddered. Alarms began to sound.

"Get back to the walls," the Doctor ordered. "We're being attacked." They staggered forward as the flimsy platform beneath their magnetized feet bucked under the force of an explosion.

"Who the hell?" Jack began, stopping short as the view-screen in the wall magnified the view below. "Bloody Unit. Should have known."

"I thought they'd have the sense to keep out of it," the Doctor said in annoyance, pulling his sonic screwdriver from somewhere within his jacket. "I'll have to have a word with them. Several words." He grabbed Jack's arm and tugged open the leather cover of this wristband. "Hold still," he ordered, as Jack pulled away reflexively, "It's about to get a communications upgrade."

Within moments, the Doctor was yelling into the strap. But the barrage continued. Ianto struggled with his ill-fitting boots as he tried to reach the relative safety of the wall. He hadn't been exaggerating about the amount of moisture that had accumulated in the layers of material surrounding his feet. They slipped and slid within the boots at every step and the vibrations hammering through the platform weren't helping in the least.

The ship spun crazily. Unit must have scored a direct hit, Ianto thought fuzzily, fighting down a wave of nausea. Up had suddenly become down. He was hanging upside down from the metal platform, held only by the magnets in his soles. He could hear Jack calling him, but to reach Jack he'd have to move, and that would mean only one boot holding him to the ….roof…floor…whatever it was. Wish the world would stop spinning….

The explosions seemed to be stopping. That was good. But there was something wrong. His legs were moving, but not towards the wall. Up…or was it down? Out of the boots, anyway, the sodden material around his feet couldn't hold him securely in the boots anymore. His legs were sliding free. That was bad. Very bad. Had to get to the wall. Had to get to Jack. One foot, one boot at a time. Ianto concentrated all his effort on breaking one boot free, moving it closer towards the sound of Jack's voice, the voice that was becoming more desperate, screaming his name now instead of just calling.

The foot came free. Out of the boot. And the single boot remaining wasn't enough to support his weight. Came free, too. This, Ianto realized, is what flying feels like. Except I'm flying down. Falling...

It was a long way to the bottom of the Christmas Cracker. But Jack's anguished scream followed him all the way.

**I did warn you the boots were important…..**


	8. Christmas part 8

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or just read. Hope you enjoy it.**_  
(Brionyjae - Hope this makes it in time for breakfast….)_

Jack felt hands on his shoulders. But they weren't Ianto's hands, so they didn't matter. He struggled against them. Ianto was down there. Ianto needed him. "Let me go," Jack growled, fingers clawing at the arms that were now wrapped around him. "I have to go after him."

"There's nothing you can do, Jack. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Those words. Those useless, pointless words. What good did sorry do? People said it as if a stupid word would fix everything. Words didn't fix anything, never had, never would.

"Let me _go_." Jack fought against the reality that had started to sink in as much as against the arms that held him. Ianto had fallen to the bottom of the ship. There was nothing down there except engines. Flames. Gas. Jack choked back another scream as he found himself hoping Ianto hadn't been alive when he hit the engines. Jack had burnt to death more than once and it meant more pain than he'd ever want Ianto to feel. Burnt to death. Dead. Ianto was dead. The scream rose again in Jack's throat but he had no idea if it went any further. Ianto _couldn't_ be dead. It was too soon. He wasn't ready. He'd never be ready.

"Help me," the other voice said. The Doctor's voice, Jack realized. So those were the Doctor's arms around him, holding him so tightly. Oh, the irony. Jack had dreamed of those very arms around him for a hundred years. They were finally there and he detested them. There was only one set of arms he wanted to feel, and he'd never feel them again.

Now there were tentacles around him too. He'd had a running joke about the sensual embrace of the tentacle that had made Ianto cringe. And they weren't even remotely sensual, anyway. Warm and strong, bizarrely comforting, the tentacles twined around him like ropes, pinning his arms uselessly against his sides, stopping his struggles.

"Jack." The Doctor's voice again, the Doctor's eyes searching his. Brown eyes, not blue. Jack decided at that moment he hated brown eyes. Hated them just because they weren't blue. Because it should be blue eyes looking back at him with the love they'd never openly acknowledged, not brown ones filled with pity and pain.

"Jack, can you hear me?"

"I need," Jack said, forcing his voice around the ragged breaths being torn from his lungs. "I need to find him. Bring him back. I can't leave him here."

"We will find Yan-tow." The alien, breathy voice was disgustingly calm. Didn't they have any emotions? They'd got so bloody excited about the trade negotiations. Didn't they realize that the best reason Jack had ever found for opening his eyes was gone for ever?

"Thank you." The Doctor's voice again. "We'll be back in our vessel."

"We'll bring Yan-tow to the Tar-dis," the alien voice confirmed, sounding childishly delighted at pronouncing the name of the exotic craft. A growl rose in Jack's throat, a gritty, animal sound, the portent of grief trying to tear free.

The tentacles released Jack cautiously, but there was no fight left in him. He allowed himself to be led back into the Tardis, to be pushed onto the bench while the Doctor unstrapped the heavy boots from his feet. Then Jack moved again. He seized the boots and hurled them against the wall. It helped. They were exactly like the boots that had let Ianto fall to his death.

"Can I get you anything, Jack?" The Doctor's voice again, more gentle than he'd ever heard it before, tainted with an echo of the same pain Jack felt. That helped too. Could he get him anything? Could he get Ianto back? Of course not. Not even worth asking. Timelines. A time machine was a useless thing, after all.

"Nothing," Jack answered dully. He wondered vaguely why he wasn't crying. You were supposed to cry when someone you loved died, weren't you? Someone he loved. He'd never told him. Why hadn't he told him? But he'd known, hadn't he? How could he be sure Ianto knew if he'd never told him?

"Something to drink, perhaps? Coffee. You like coffee don't you?"

"NO!"

A mug was pressed into his hand regardless. It wasn't coffee, so Jack drank it. Tea, hot and sweet, soothing the raggedness in his throat.

"This could take a while, Jack," the Doctor said tentatively, "Let me take you back to Cardiff. I'll bring Ianto later."

Jack shuddered, and shook his head firmly. "Not going back to Cardiff."

"It's where you belong, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "It was just a place to wait for you, that's all. I didn't belong there until I found Ianto. Without him, there's nothing to go back for." The tears were close now, pressing against the back of his eyes. But he couldn't release them, not yet.

The chair creaked as the Doctor sat down beside him. "I'm so sorry, Jack."

"Not your fault," Jack said heavily. "Mine. My fault."

"It wasn't your fault, Jack. He was mortal. It happens."

"He wanted to stay at the Hub. I dragged him onto the Tardis. Showing off. Wanted to impress him."

"And then," the Doctor continued firmly, "He wanted to stay here. I talked him into coming onto that ship with us. So it's as much my fault as yours, if you want to parcel out blame. And he was brilliant. We're going to get a peaceful resolution out of this, and it's because of him."

"That's what I told him. I told him he was brilliant. But I didn't tell him….I didn't say….Never told him that I…" but he choked off. Still couldn't say it.

"Don't blame yourself for that," the Doctor said softly. "You were protecting yourself, that's all. I do it, too. People like us, we lose everyone, and we have to go on. So we try to keep some distance, hoping it'll hurt less."

The two immortals looked at each other, their eyes shadowed with the grief of ages.

"But it doesn't work, does it?" Jack asked sadly.

The Doctor dropped his eyes. "Hardly ever," he agreed.

Their brooding silence was shattered by the buzz of the archaic phone handset.

"The Phalasians," the Doctor identified.

"They've found him then," Jack said, grief stabbing through him again. He didn't know if he could handle seeing Ianto's broken body, not yet. Maybe not ever.

"Probably," the Doctor agreed. He looked with concern at his friend. Too near breaking point, he decided. "You don't have to do this, Jack," the Doctor said firmly. "I can handle it."

"But I want to..."

"No you don't. Not yet. Let me," he paused, but there was no way of putting it that wouldn't hurt. "Let me see him first."

Jack knew exactly what the Doctor was offering. 'Making him decent' they used to call it. He'd do his best to make what was left of Ianto easier to see. Jack's eyes burned with the effort of holding the tears back. He rose suddenly.

"I'll be in my room," he agreed, and bolted from the cabin.

The Doctor watched his friend run from his grief, knowing it would catch him anyway, wishing he could help. But for a man like Jack, emotions were easier handled in private. The Doctor sighed. Sometimes the best way to help was to know when to stay away. He sighed again, and reached for the handset.

Jack fled to his room, as a wounded animal seeks its lair. He dropped onto his bed, greedily drinking in the scent that clung to the crumpled sheets. Coffee and chocolate and a dozen other elusive elements that melded into the unique scent of Ianto Jones. He buried his head in Ianto's pillow, letting the tears free in a silent torrent, grateful that there was no one to see the tremors that shook him from head to toe.

An eon later, or perhaps only a minute, there was a hammering on the door. Jack lifted his head from the pillow, using the sheet to swipe at his eyes. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, but before he could get to his feet, the door was flung open. The Doctor stood in the doorway, eyes shining.

"He's alive, Jack. He's still alive."

**Well of course I couldn't kill him – he has to be around for CoE doesn't he? **


	9. Christmas part 9

**I really didn't expect this story to end up quite so long…thanks to everyone who's hanging in there.**

Jack could only stare numbly at the Doctor, afraid to hope. It couldn't be true. Ianto couldn't have survived that fall into the engines.

"How?" Jack asked weakly, dropping back onto the bed as he realized his legs weren't up to the task of supporting him.

"Safety nets," the Doctor exclaimed. "Why do we always assume only humans bother with safety devices? The Phalasians have safety nets over the engine intakes. They're brilliant!"

Jack shook his head violently, more to clear it than out of a sense of negation.

"They float," he protested. He couldn't let himself believe this was real until he'd wrung some sense out of it. "Why do they need safety nets?"

The Doctor seized his arm and dragged him to his feet.

"So their tentacles don't get sucked into the intake if they get too close, I suppose," he answered impatiently. What does it matter? There was a net, Ianto landed on it, he survived the fall. Do you want to see him or not?"

Jack didn't need to be dragged anymore. "He's here?"

The Doctor nodded, eyes alight. "He's in the cabin. But he's unconscious, Jack."

"So I can be there when he wakes up," Jack said, finally starting to believe something had gone right. Ianto was always there when he woke up. This time it would be the other way around.

The Doctor stopped suddenly in the corridor, blocking the way. "I should warn you, Jack, he's…"

"He's alive, that's all I care about," Jack answered impatiently. He dodged around the Doctor and sped into the cabin.

"….He's been given Phalasian first aid." the Doctor finished, following more slowly.

"You know," said Jack disbelievingly, staring incredulously at the figure floating in the cabin, supported on an anti-gravity stretcher, "I've told him plenty of times I'd eat him from the toes up."

"Stop it, Jack," the Doctor said, hands ready to clap over his ears if this got any worse.

"But I never imagined I'd have him served in batter," Jack concluded.

The Doctor dropped his hands. "Are you going to say anything else I shouldn't hear?" he asked cautiously.

Jack grinned, giddy with relief. Even through the fluffy mineral sheath, he could see the movement of Ianto's chest. He was breathing. He _was_ alive.

"How do we get that off him?" Jack asked, eager to be doing something.

"We don't," the Doctor answered. "Not until we've had him checked out. The Phalasians don't understand human physiology, obviously. They wisely chose not to interfere. All they've really done is put him into a kind of stasis. Whatever injuries he sustained, they're still there."

Jack's face fell, the relief sinking into the pit of his stomach like a stone. "He's not out of the woods then, is he?"

"Woods?" the Doctor repeated. "What woods?"

Jack shook his head. "Never mind. What do we have to do?"

"We need to get him to your Hub," the Doctor decided. "You'll have everything we need there. You should call,…um Gwyneth, wasn't it? Ask her to get the medical bay ready."

"Gwen," Jack corrected, pulling out his phone.

"I'll call Martha," the Doctor announced, hunting around the console until he found a particular mobile phone. "We'll need her too."

They conducted their separate conversations in low voices. "She'll meet us," the Doctor announced triumphantly.

"But Martha's in London," Jack protested. "It'll take her hours to get to the Hub."

The Doctor sighed. "We're right over London, Jack."

Jack smiled weakly. "So we are. Handy. But what about the jellyfish? What'll they do if we just leave?"

"The Phalasians understand, Jack. They'll conclude the agreement out of respect for Ianto, if nothing else. There's a team of Unit negotiators on their way up. They'll pick up where we left off. We're free to leave."

Jack stayed beside Ianto's shrouded form as the Doctor flew around the console, preparing them for departure. He ran a gentle hand over the opaque casing, noticing the way the ruffled surface dipped and rose as it conformed to the contours of the body beneath. Ianto's eyes were closed. The Phalasians hadn't removed any of his clothing, something Jack was sure Ianto would have approved of, but it made it difficult to tell whether he was wounded. At least there was no sign of blood. No wounds bad enough for blood to have soaked through the clothing. The only sign of red was the socks. Jack felt a smile tugging at his mouth as his remembered the banter over those socks.

The lurching of the Tardis as it landed broke into his musings. The door opened directly into a room that he recognized from long ago, from before the year that wasn't. Martha's flat. Within seconds, another pair of arms was around him, soft, strong, familiar arms. Martha, hugging him, telling him everything would be all right. And even though he wasn't sure he believed her, it helped.

"Jack, this is Tom, my fiancé," Martha said, releasing Jack and ducking back to pull another man through the door of the Tardis. "He's a pediatric surgeon."

"Ianto's not _that _young," Jack protested, forcing out the joke. Tom was obviously unimpressed by the warmth of the greeting Jack and Martha had shared. And Jack didn't want a jealous surgeon operating on Ianto.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Emphasis on the _surgeon_, Jack. Just in case. It's not as though we can take him to A & E with that gunk all over him, is it?" She flicked a glance at the Doctor, who was watching in silence. "We can take a look while you get us to Cardiff," she said pointedly. The Doctor returned meekly to the console. Martha, he concluded, had grown somewhat bossy after saving the world.

Jack stood back out of the way as Martha and Tom examined Ianto as best they could through the casing. "No obvious trauma," Tom commented.

I could have told him that, Jack thought resentfully.

Martha frowned. "I don't suppose you've got an ultrasound machine, have you Doctor? It might give us a clue what we're dealing with here."

"We've got a scanner at Torchwood that does ultrasounds, along with a few other tricks," Jack offered. "I'll call Gwen and have her set it up."

Martha reached for the phone, "Let me talk to her," she instructed. "I can tell her what settings we'll need."

Jack passed the phone across, biting back a sigh of frustration. Everyone except him was doing something to help Ianto. He still blamed himself for dragging Ianto into this and it looked as though he wasn't even going to be able to redeem himself by getting him out.

-XXX-

Jack and Gwen leaned side by side against the railing encircling what they usually called the Autopsy bay. Only tonight everyone was calling it the Medical bay. Superstition, Gwen supposed. She glanced sideways at Jack.

"You look like hell," she observed.

Jack smiled. A faint, forced shadow of his usual grin. He ran a hand through his hair, once more demonstrating how it had gotten into its current state.

"I'll be fine," he said absently.

Gwen made a soft sound of disbelief.

Jack shrugged. "I will be," he insisted. "If _he_ is."

Gwen felt an obscure pain inside as her final illusions shattered. Part of her had clung to a romantic notion that Jack had turned to Ianto because he couldn't have her. The same part that let her feel noble for staying with the good man instead of going to the bad boy. The same part of her that now whimpered and shrank into nothingness as she took a very clear look at the man beside her. A man. An extraordinary man, admittedly, but still, just a man. A man with an ashen face, red eyes, hair disarranged from the number of times his hands had pushed despairingly through it.

Gwen threaded her arm silently through his as they looked together at the scene below. Martha was still moving the scanner slowly over Ianto, while two doctors and one Doctor watched the display intently. The projection had been angled so it couldn't be seen it properly from up here. Which Jack suspected was completely intentional, considering the remarks from Tom about 'amateur diagnoses' that had resulted in Jack and Gwen being banished from the medical bay.

"I _said_ it was more than just a bit of fun," Gwen said, almost to herself.

Jack's heart contracted. "Is that what he thought?"

Gwen shrugged. "I told him it wasn't like that, but…well, Ianto's not exactly overflowing with self-esteem, is he?" Not, she berated herself, that I've ever done anything to change that. Quite happy to think he was second best, even if it meant letting him think that too.

"Gwen?" Martha's voice. Gwen leaned forward, expectantly.

"We're going to start removing the Phalasian casing," Martha continued. "The Doctor says we should use laser saws."

"I'll get you some," Gwen said, eager to be doing something apart from considering what a fool she'd been. "I've used them before," she added, "Can I help?"

Martha nodded thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. Once we start cutting into it, we'll need to get it off quickly. An extra pair of hands wouldn't go astray."

Gwen darted off on her errand. Jack started for the staircase, only to find Martha blocking his way. "Not a chance," she told him firmly.

"Why not?" Jack argued. "I've been using a laser saw longer than Gwen's been alive."

Martha slapped a penlight into his hand. "Shine it over there," she ordered, pointing vaguely. "And keep it still."

Jack shone the torch as directed. But he couldn't keep the beam still. The patch of light shimmered across the wall, magnifying the trembling in his hand. He returned the light to Martha wordlessly, shoulders slumping. She was right. He'd be more liability than help.

Martha rubbed his arm consolingly. "He's going to be all right," she said reassuringly.

Jack released a huge breath. "Thank God for that," he mumbled, recognizing the irony. He wasn't religious, but he wanted someone to thank, anyway.

"Impact injuries, as you'd expect," Martha continued. "But whatever caught him was amazing. No internal damage, nothing broken except for a few ribs. And a bang on the head – we're assuming he hit something on the way down - but his brain activity is normal, so there's no reason why he won't be just as good as before."

Tears started leaking from Jack's eyes again. Martha silently handed him a packet of tissues from her pocket and enveloped him in a hug.

"Your secret's out, you know," she said, a teasing edge in her voice.

Jack pulled free of her arms. "What secret?"

Martha smiled softly. "You and him, of course. You can't pretend it's just a game anymore."

Her too, Jack thought despairingly. Does _everyone_ think I'm that shallow?

"It was _never_ a game," he said tightly. But if everyone else thought that, he realized with a chill, maybe Ianto did, too.

Martha's brow creased. "But…Oh you fool…When you asked me for a Unit cap, was that your bizarre way of telling me you'd found someone special?"

Jack nodded, unable to look at her. "I don't do sentiment," he mumbled. "You were engaged. You'd moved on from the Doctor. I wanted you to know I had too."

At which she actually punched him. On the arm. Gently, of course, but a punch, nonetheless.

"I hope," Martha said ominously. "You were a bit more direct with him."

"You'd expect so, wouldn't you?" Gwen added, returning with a handful of laser saws. "But he wasn't."

Wasn't direct with either of us, Gwen thought. She was over feeling foolish now, and was on to resentful. All that flirting, all those glances, the way he'd behaved when she'd told him she was engaged. Even the way he'd held her while they danced at her own wedding, before Ianto had cut in. Maybe she'd had it all wrong, but he'd been doing nothing to dispel the illusion. Until now. And with her first unselfish thought for the last hour, she realized how much all of it must have hurt Ianto. So she was angry on his behalf, as well.

Jack hung his head as both women eyed him accusingly. He couldn't have raised a witty response if all his lives had depended on it. They were right. He'd been a fool.

The two women headed down the staircase, pointedly leaving Jack to his regrets. With his head still down, he didn't see them pause as they reached the bottom.

"We might have gone too far," Martha said doubtfully, glancing back up towards Jack. "He's a mess, and we've made it worse."

Gwen looked up at the despondent figure. "He needed a shake up," she disagreed. "He'll be OK." A tiny smile played across her face. "Might need a bit of a prod, though."

Martha's eyebrows rose. Gwen winked.

"Don't worry about him, Martha," she said, raising her voice just enough to be sure Jack heard it. "He'll bounce right back to the way he was as soon as Ianto wakes up."

Jack's head snapped up.

"The hell I will," he snarled.

Gwen winked at Martha again. "Prodded," she whispered.

"You're good," Martha congratulated her softly.

They glanced up at Jack, seeing the spark back in his eyes for the first time since he'd stepped off the Tardis.

"I learnt from the best," Gwen answered.

_A/N: I know this chapter wasn't very exciting. But I needed to give Jack a reason not to turn back into Mr Cool when Ianto wakes up – which he will in the next chapter, I promise!_


	10. Christmas part 10

**There would be no point waking him up if you weren't reading this...so thank you and here comes the Welshman...with fluff**

**Spoilers for _The Dead Line_**

"You can come down now, Jack," The Doctor called.

Jack took the stairs two at a time. Ianto was Ianto again, minus alien fluff. Pale, though. So pale, so still. Still and silent on the metal table, covered by a sheet. There was an empty chair waiting just beside Ianto's head. Jack dropped into it and found Ianto's hand. His smile dropped away as he registered the concern on the faces that surrounded him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, fighting down panic.

Martha bit her lip. "He should have woken up by now," she admitted softly.

Jack searched the faces around him. Martha and Tom were maintaining a professional calm. Gwen looked as though she'd been crying. As Jack met her eyes she turned and fled up the staircase. The Doctor's face was blank.

"You said he'd be OK," Jack protested, staring pleadingly at Martha.

"Head injuries," Tom said, a defensive edge in his voice. "We'll never really know enough about head injuries. All the scans say he's fine, but…."

Martha moved to Jack's side and squeezed his shoulder. "Over to you, now," she told him. "Wake him up."

Jack looked at her, eyebrows lifting. "How do I do that?"

"Talk to him," Tom answered.

Jack eyed them suspiciously. "Does that really work, or is it just something you doctors tell us to do" but he broke off as Ianto's voice echoed in his mind_, _finishing the sentence_ to make us feel better rather than help. _Which pretty much answered his question. He'd heard Ianto say those words, and more, from the depths of his own stupor. Maybe Ianto _would_ hear him.

"I'll try," he agreed.

Martha patted his shoulder comfortingly. "We'll leave you to it. Call us if – when - he wakes up. He'll need help with the pain."

Jack's eyes focused sharply. "This," he said bitterly, "Is your definition of 'all right'…"

"I told you about the broken ribs," Martha reminded him. "And we had to expect bruising. Heaps of that. He'll be stiff and sore for a good while yet. Nothing we can't manage. But you have to get him back, first."

Martha led Tom away. The Doctor remained, watching silently as Jack started a one-sided discussion with the man lying on the table. About Weevil hunting. No reaction. Jack's voice broke again.

There was a shriek from overhead. "Myfanwy's putting in her two cents worth," Jack commented, looking towards the sound so the Doctor wouldn't see the tears beading his lashes. "It might help. He spoils her rotten. Come on Ianto," he urged, squeezing the hand that lay heavy in his. "Myfanwy misses you. Don't you, big girl?" As if in response, the prehistoric avian swooped dangerously low, the wind of her passage ruffling their hair.

"A pterodactyl," The Doctor said, looking up and frowning. "From the Rift. How did a pterodactyl end up coming through the Rift?"

"You could ask her," Jack suggested. Ianto's fingers were turning pink, he thought hopefully, before realizing he'd squeezed too tightly. He forced his hand to relax. The fingers turned pale again.

"I just might," the Doctor responded. "I hate an unsatisfied curiosity."

Jack played with Ianto's hand, twining the limp fingers through his own.

"Odd," he mused. "I'd probably never have given him a job here if it hadn't been for Myfanwy."

The Doctor watched him in silence for a moment, his brow furrowed. The pterodactyl bothered him. Jack in pain bothered him. The memories of Jack's screams through the year that wasn't were one of the reasons the Doctor didn't sleep.

"I seem to remember having a discussion about keeping some distance," The Doctor commented dryly.

Jack used his free hand to stroke damp hair away from Ianto's forehead. "I'm usually pretty good at that," he said. "But not this time. Not with him."

"What exactly," the Doctor asked intently, "Is so special about him?"

Jack met the Doctor's eyes. "Everything. Nothing. No idea. Doesn't matter. Just is."

The Doctor sighed. "Is it worth it, Jack? Is it worth what you're going through now? Is it worth what you're _going _to go through? He's mortal. It won't happen today, but the time will come…..and you'll mourn him forever."

Jack blinked, surprised. The Doctor was blunt, always, but not usually brutal. Still, he must have a reason for asking. The Doctor always had a reason. Is it worth it? he asked himself. Is _he_ worth it? Jack's mouth curved into a smile. No question, really. "Yeah," he said softly. "It was. It is. He is."

The Doctor let out a breath and patted Jack on the shoulder. "Then you should try telling him that," he suggested pointedly. "It might possibly be a better incentive than Weevils and pterodactyls."

Jack smiled, a relieved smile. The Doctor always had a reason. "Thank you," he said softly. The smile turned cheeky. "You might want to leave now, Doctor. This is about to get personal." He raised Ianto's hand to his lips.

"I'll go chat to that pterodactyl," The Doctor said hastily.

"Take some chocolate," Jack called after him, his voice muffled. The Doctor didn't look back.

-XXX-

Ianto floated in the dark, retreating from the pain that racked his body. It would be so easy just to stay here, to sleep. But the voice wouldn't let him. The voice he'd answer to anywhere, anytime, calling him, dragging him back towards wakefulness, towards pain.

Ianto swam groggily back towards consciousness, following the voice. It _sounded _like Jack's voice. But maybe it wasn't him. The words weren't right. "Yan, come back. Please. I….I love you. Come back, wake up for me…." Jack never said things like that. So maybe it wasn't Jack. Maybe there was no reason to wake up. But the voice continued, demanding, pleading. Saying the same things, over and over. Perhaps he was dreaming, again. He'd had dreams like this, or maybe they were just daydreams. Dreams where he was more than the Teaboy, more than the part-time shag. _The one I'll always come home to. _Had he really said that, or was it just part of the dream?

But it really did sound like Jack, even if the words were wrong. And the voice had broken off into sobs. Well, just in case it was Jack, after all, he'd better try to get back. Because Jack was obviously upset about something and maybe Ianto could make him feel better. If he woke up. Not really an appealing idea. He could already feel the beginning of the pain that waited at the edge of consciousness. "Wake up Cariad. Come back to me." Well, that settled it. It _was_ Jack's voice. He had the worst Welsh accent in existence.

Ianto's eyelids fluttered. He was right, with consciousness came pain. Everything hurt. But there was a hand holding his and lips brushing against his forehead, which was taking his mind off the pain quite nicely, thank you.

"Yan?" he croaked. Not the best of Welsh vowels, but the best his very dry throat would allow. "You've never called me that, before."

An arm around his shoulder, lifting him gently. Eyes screwed tightly shut against the pain of movement, but those pheromones were helping. A cup pressed against his lips. Water. Throat felt better right away. The arms lowered him back down. Damn.

"And haven't we agreed you'd stop trying to mangle the Welsh language?" Ianto continued, dragging his eyes open.

He smiled crookedly at the sight. Jack looked terrible. His face had turned an unbecoming shade of gray, set off by red-rimmed eyes. All of which was completely overshadowed by the smile that spread across his face at the sound of Ianto's voice.

"He's awake!" Jack bellowed. Which Ianto thought was a quite unnecessary observation, delivered far too loudly. He opened his mouth to say "Obviously," but didn't have a chance to get the words out. Jack's lips had closed over his, passionate and demanding.

Nice, but…"Ouch," Ianto complained, twisting his face to the side. "Not so hard."

Jack leaned back. "Sorry." He captured Ianto's hand instead, pressing a kiss into the palm before laying the hand flat against his cheek. "I thought….I thought I'd lost you."

"Hence the soppy nicknames?" Ianto teased. "No one's called me Yan since I was about eight."

Jack laid Ianto's hand slowly back onto the bed. Ianto was back, complete with the banter that had always headed off sentiment before. And Jack's usual reserve was creeping back too. He was starting to feel embarrassed. Soppy didn't begin to cover how he'd behaved tonight. But it seemed as though he couldn't stop himself. And you were supposed to be sentimental at Christmastime, right? What the hell, no one was watching. Except Ianto, who looked as though he'd be laughing if he wasn't in so much pain.

"I won't do it again," Jack mumbled. Ianto's fingers closed around his before he could get his hand away. Not that he was trying very hard.

"I don't mind, really," Ianto said softly. "Keep it for when we're alone, though, OK? I don't want anyone else to start with it."

"OK." They smiled at each other, quite soppily, just for a moment or two. Then Jack realized something else, and for the second time in as many days, a blush spread across his face.

"You heard what I said, huh?"

"You should know about being able to hear stuff when you're unconscious," Ianto chided gently, squeezing Jack's hand. "_You_ heard every word I said while you were in that coma."

"Blip," Jack confirmed. But he couldn't meet Ianto's eyes.

"Of course, I might not have heard _everything_," Ianto offered generously, "if that makes you feel better."

"If you weren't so weak I'd smack you one," Jack grumbled.

"Don't make me laugh," Ianto complained. "Hurts." He shifted uncomfortably on the hard metal table. "Can I stop lying on the autopsy table yet?"

"You're not moving until Martha says it's safe."

"Martha? What's she doing here?"

"Putting you back together," Jack told him.

"Because," a voice said from above, "I wasn't sure if I remembered all the ways humans join up inside. Didn't want to risk mixing you up with an Orionite, they're very similar from the outside, but the plumbing's all different. Left to me, we might have rewired you unnecessarily."

The Doctor clattered the rest of the way down the stairs and smiled down at Ianto. "About time you joined us," he said cheerfully. "Jack was becoming a bit of a handful."

"Stop teasing him," Ianto told the Doctor firmly. "That's my job."

"You do realize," the Doctor said with mock severity, "That he's a full time occupation?"

"Lifetime occupation," Jack corrected. "Think you can handle it?"

Ianto eyes glowed through the pain. It hadn't been a dream, after all.

**Christmas is nearly over...just a few loose ends left, pterodactyls and such...**


	11. Christmas part 11

**The fluffy conclusion, with a sting in the tail. Thank you for reading...**

The lifetime occupation thing could stand a little more discussion, Ianto decided. Preferably without the Doctor listening. But it would have to wait, damn it all, given the number of footsteps currently thundering down the staircase into the medical bay. Gwen and Martha, hugging him, kissing even. A man Ianto hadn't seen before, checking his pulse, pressing an icy stethoscope to his chest. "This is Tom," Martha said proudly.

Ianto thought vaguely that he'd rather have met Martha's fiancé while he was wearing more than a sheet. And couldn't he have warmed up the stethoscope, just a little bit? And could they all just leave so Jack could finish what he was saying before he changed his mind?

Tom and Martha bustled around him, doing doctor things, speaking in soothing tones. Ianto didn't really hear the words because he was biting back cries of pain. Who'd have thought bruising would hurt so much? It would stop soon, Ianto promised himself. Or he'd work out how to breathe around it.

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" Jack demanded.

"Soon," Martha promised.

"Can't have the pain meds masking any symptoms," Tom said briskly. "Won't be long."

Ianto flapped a hand weakly. "I'm fine," he insisted.

Jack lifted him again so that Tom could plant the stethoscope over his back. Still cold. And he was pretty sure he could have sat up by himself, given the chance. But he was in Jack's arms, not something he'd usually complain about. And Ianto realized that his mouth was quite conveniently just beside Jack's ear.

"Lifetime occupation," he whispered into that ear. "Was that an offer?"

"Yeah," Jack murmured back. "Not that you've got a choice."

"I've only got one life," Ianto reminded him, still whispering. They were doing something painful to his ribs. His head dropped on Jack's shoulder, taking measured breaths, controlling the pain. Go, pheromones.

"It'll do," Jack said softly. "As long as you spend all of it with me." Ianto's eyes closed. Didn't want Jack to see them misting up. Jack didn't do sentiment. Well, not usually.

"Stay with me," Jack said, shaking him slightly. His voice became louder, directed at someone else. "Where are those painkillers?"

"S' OK, Jack," Ianto mumbled. He lifted his head, forcing his eyes to focus on Martha.

"How bad?" he asked, concentrating on not slurring his words.

"Probably feels worse than it is," Martha answered, voice professional, eyes soft. "You've got two broken ribs. We've taped them, so that should help. There's a lovely lump on your head – no don't touch it, it'll just hurt – and the bruising of course. You're going to look a sight when it all comes out."

"Just a few more tests," Tom announced.

"Painkillers first," Jack said stubbornly.

Ianto could practically hear the eyes rolling. "Stop fussing, Jack," he pleaded softly. "They know what they're doing."

Jack's only response was a sound very close to a growl.

"Come on, Jack, let's find him some clothes," Gwen said, tugging on Jack's arm. "You can't take him home in a sheet. No, really, you can't." And between coaxing and teasing, she got Jack out of the medical bay. There was a collective sigh of relief as the doctors bustled around Ianto again, poking and prodding and shining lights in his eyes. But without Jack in the way, it was all done in moments.

Martha jabbed him with a syringe which turned the pain off. Bliss. Gotta love Martha. Gwen and Jack returned with an armful of clothes.

"Be quick now," Tom said, "the painkillers will make him sleepy."

He was right, Ianto thought fuzzily, fighting against the fog that was beginning to encroach. He didn't want to go back to sleep yet. But at least he was too dazed to be embarrassed about how many people were involved in dressing him.

"Can I take him home now?" Jack asked finally.

"Ambulance would be best," Tom's voice. Not Torchwood. Torchwood never used ambulances. If you couldn't do it in an SUV, it didn't happen.

"Tardis," suggested the Doctor.

"Cool," Ianto thought, hoping he hadn't said it out loud. "I get to ride in the Tardis again."

"Anytime you like," the Doctor offered. Ianto blushed again. Guess he_ had_ said it.

"What was that about poaching?" Jack demanded.

Ianto could see the Doctor smiling. "Possessive, isn't he?"

"About time," Martha added. She grinned at the Doctor. "You can drop us off in London," she said offhandedly. "We've got lunch with Tom's parents tomorrow."

The Doctor looked back at Martha with a slightly wounded expression. She was turning the most amazing vessel in the universe into a bus. Maybe a taxi. Taxi's had a bit more class.

Martha stared back, eyebrows lifting. "Was there something?"

She'd definitely gotten bossier. But the Doctor hadn't survived over nine hundred years without realizing that sometimes, just sometimes, it was better to keep his mouth shut. Especially around a bossy woman with a boyfriend to impress.

"I'm off too," Gwen announced. Another kiss, on his forehead. "Merry Christmas, Ianto." And her footsteps clattered away.

"Is it Christmas already?" Ianto demanded. He'd beaten that fog. Wasn't going to sleep until he was ready.

"For two hours now," Martha answered. "Let's get you home."

-XXX-

Ianto collapsed gratefully onto his couch. Martha was giving him a final once-over. Tom was handing Jack packets of pills with interminable instructions. Ianto looked at the Tardis sticking out of his lounge room wall. It would be bizarre even if he wasn't high on painkillers. On the other side of that particular wall was his neighbor's lounge room, so where was the rest of the Tardis? "Temporal displacement," Ianto mumbled.

"Drugged and _still _brilliant," the Doctor said admiringly. He looked at Jack hopefully. "We're still going to Mars base, right?"

"Ianto's on light duties for at least two weeks," Martha interrupted.

"I'm offering a holiday," the Doctor protested.

Jack and Martha both laughed. The Doctor looked injured. Pouting didn't really suit the Doctor, Ianto decided. More Jack's thing, the pout.

"Getting shot at or blown up on alternate days is not most people's idea of a holiday," Jack commented, grinning.

"And running, lots of running," Martha added, giggling. Tom was pouting now. Didn't suit him either.

"Yeah, Doctor," Jack concluded. "Very relaxing. Not. We'll pass."

Ianto stirred. "You go, Jack," he offered.

Jack dropped onto the couch beside him, arms twining around his shoulders and waist gently, careful of the taped ribs beneath. With the others watching. Ianto felt a blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Not going anywhere without you, you twit" Jack growled into his ear. "I'll put that comment down to the drugs. This time."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Time we were off, I think." He and Martha were both smiling broadly. Tom looked uncomfortable. The blush spread down to Ianto's throat. They'd have to have a chat about discretion. Again.

More goodbyes. The fog was starting to win. Ianto yawned. And yelped as he rose into the air. Jack was carrying him to the bedroom.

"I can walk," he protested.

"Shush," Jack answered.

"A few weeks ago," Ianto grumbled, feeling ridiculous as he was tucked into bed like a child, "You snapped my shoulder back in when it was dislocated and we went straight back to work."

"That was then," Jack answered, sliding in beside him. "Before you took on a lifetime occupation. Unless you've changed your mind." The light tone faltered. "Have you?"

Insecurity? Uncertainty? From Jack? Well, well, well.

"Christmas," Ianto said suddenly. "It's Christmas, right?"

Jack twisted around to look at the bedside clock. "Has been for nearly three hours now." He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or apprehensive that Ianto hadn't answered his question, but it could wait until tomorrow. He leaned over and kissed Ianto chastely. "Get some sleep."

"When we were kids," Ianto said reminiscently. "Mam used to let us open one present when we got back from Midnight Mass."

Jack felt guilt settle into his stomach. Had he even bought Ianto anything for Christmas? Well, yeah, a bottle of scotch and some ties to replace the ones he'd destroyed over the year, but nothing significant. He was really, really bad at couple stuff. Out of practice. No excuse, he supposed, for not trying. He'd sneak out tomorrow and find something amazing. The set of onyx cufflinks that had seemed so ostentatious last week, perhaps. Of course, he'd have to find the jeweler and make him open the shop. As for now….

"Don't need a present," he told Ianto gruffly, trying to find a way of wrapping an arm around his waist that avoided the injuries. "I've got….got everything I want."

"Soppy git," Ianto chided, between yawns. "Go on; get me that red package tied with the gold ribbon. It's for you. I'll go to sleep after you open it, I promise."

Jack sighed and rolled out of bed. "Where is it?" he asked resignedly.

"Under the Christmas tree you made me get. The one dropping needles all over my carpet."

"'Scuse me for trying to be festive," Jack grumbled, trudging back into the lounge room.

He returned with a long, narrow package and started ripping off the paper.

"Careful, don't tear it," Ianto cautioned. He'd propped himself into a sitting position while Jack was gone, and watched intently as Jack peeled the rest of the paper away.

Inside were the deeds to a property. This property. With all the paperwork required to transfer it to joint ownership. All that was missing was his signature.

"Ianto, what? Why?" Jack stammered off into silence.

"You asked, before, if I'd changed my mind," Ianto said softly, not looking at him. "There's you answer. Made my mind up long ago."

"But," Jack checked over the documents again. "This is your home…"

"Our home," Ianto corrected. "If you accept. It's up to you. I just…..I need to know, Jack. One way or the other."

Jack turned away abruptly as something dripped onto the parchment. Goddamnit, hadn't he cried enough today? "It's too much," he said numbly. Only it was exactly, precisely, all he wanted. A home. Their home.

Ianto lay back down on the bed, eyes closing. "OK. Just tear it up then."

"I didn't mean that," Jack protested. Ianto rolled over onto his side. Away.

"Which neighbor do you want me to wake up?" Jack demanded.

Ianto rolled back, eyes flicking open. "What?"

"To witness my signature," Jack explained.

Ianto smiled. "It can wait until tomorrow. If your sure?"

Jack only nodded. He opened the bedside table, started to put the documents inside, then withdrew them suddenly and slid them under his pillow. I'll stop being sentimental tomorrow, he decided. When I'm sure I didn't only dream about coming to my senses. Finally. God, he's been patient.

"I'll get old," Ianto warned groggily, settling into the arms that enfolded him. "Wrinkles. Grey hair."

"Botox and hair dye," Jack teased. "If that bothers you so much."

"You're supposed to say you don't care," Ianto grumbled, sliding into sleep.

"Never," Jack said to the sleeping figure. "I'll never let you think that again."

_Make the most of it,_ something whispered inside Jack's mind._ You don't have long._

Jack ignored the warning in the whisper. He'd listened to that sort of thing too often in the past. Not this time. Jack tucked his chin onto the top of Ianto's head, and drifted contentedly into sleep.

-XXX-

The Tardis materialized inside the empty Hub. The Doctor wanted to visit that pterodactyl again. Chocolate, hmmm? The Doctor emerged from the Tardis, carrying his favorite brand of chocolate. Helped himself to some first, reflecting that at least he didn't have to worry about his teeth any more. They didn't have to last much longer. His song was ending, after all.

One of the problems with knowing the end was near, he thought gloomily, was the pressure to tie off all of those loose ends. One of which, of course, was Jack. He'd tried running away from Jack last time. Should have known that wouldn't work.

The pterodactyl – Myfanwy, he remembered, dived down after the chocolate. Now, it might have just been a coincidence that Myfanwy preferred the same brand of chocolate as the Doctor. But coincidences were a suspicious thing, especially to someone with a time machine. The Doctor looked at the pterodactyl carefully, seeing it with more than his eyes. Opening his Time Lord senses. Damn. Damn. Damn. Tardis residue on the pterodactyl.

Well, since he was doing the Time Lord thing, might as well do it properly. The Doctor closed his eyes and thought about Jack. Jack and Ianto. Opened his mind. Searched for what must be, might be, must not be. Ianto's death on the Phalasian ship was definitely a 'mustn't be'. Because Ianto's death, later, was a 'must be'. And Jack would have to take him to it. And it was one more of those Earth tragedies that the Doctor wouldn't be able to help with. He'd already tried.

But Time, ahh, Time. Not a straight line. Wibbly Wobbly. He couldn't change the end, but perhaps he could change the beginning. Since it hadn't happened yet. Because the pterodactyl in front of him, eating chocolate, reeked of Tardis residue and it had never been on the Tardis. Not yet. And if he didn't take it to the Tardis, Ianto would never find it. Jack would never employ him. And in that particular timeline….the Doctor focused….following the path of that particular 'might be.' And the Time Lord sighed from the depths of his soul. Wouldn't work. In that timeline the 456 would destroy the Earth. Because losing Ianto was the spur that made Jack take those final steps.

And Jack had said it was worth it. Hope he still thinks so, after.

The Tardis rematerialized in a time of grassy plains and towering forests. Chocolate in hand, the Doctor tamed a pterodactyl and released it in twenty-first century Cardiff.

Merry Christmas Jack. Make the most of it. You don't have long.

**Hope you enjoyed it. New Year will be next, if anyone's interested...**


	12. Christmas Day

**This is just short piece to link the Christmas story to the New Year one that I'm planning. Fluff and a bit of angst. Hope you like it. **

Jack lay curled against his sleeping lover, trying not to hold on too tightly. And not just in the physical sense. There was more to this than being careful not to put pressure on the bruises or the broken ribs.

It was happening again.

There was no point in remembering how many times he'd promised himself never to go back down this path. As Jack watched the rise and fall of Ianto's chest, the universe tilted, swirled, found a new axis. Every thought, every feeling, coiling around this one person, this frail mortal. Love's a bitch, and then he'll die.

-XXX-

Ianto stirred, turning over in his sleep, waking with a yelp as his injuries protested against the unconscious movement. His eyes opened, blinking in confusion. Jack fought down a wave of panic. Martha said there was no brain damage. And he'd been fine last night. But the panic washed through Jack's brain until Ianto's eyes cleared. You're being stupid, Jack told himself. But it made no difference. He'd let himself fall in love again. Every sign of physical weakness would spark another round of the battle within. Every bright moment would be shadowed by fear of the loss that would come soon, always too soon. This was exactly why he'd avoided love for so long, after all.

Focus on the practical, Jack told himself. "You're due for more painkillers," he noted, after checking the clock. He flicked on the bedside lamp and began sorting through the medication Martha left. "This one," he decided. "I'll get some water."

"Help me up?" Ianto asked shakily.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack answered.

"But Jack, I need…" Ianto waved vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

"Oh. Of course." So he helped him out of bed, supported him as he walked unsteadily to the bathroom, chuckled as Ianto indignantly ordered him to leave "and close the door."

The amusement died as he heard the stifled gasps of pain. Ianto was skilled at holding pain inside, showing no sign, making no sound. It must be bad now. Very bad, for those sounds to be escaping his lips.

Jack's hand balled into a fist, hitting the door with something that wasn't gentle enough to be called a knock.

"I'm OK." The words were reassuring but the tone wasn't. "I'll be out in a second."

The door creaked open. Ianto moved slowly forward, limbs stiff, face pale. Jack closed the space between them in a heartbeat and lifted Ianto into his arms, earning yet another weak protest. "I can walk, Jack."

"But you don't have to," Jack countered, quite reasonably, he thought.

Ianto sighed noisily. But he didn't have the energy to argue. After swallowing the painkillers he merely wriggled into a comfortable position in Jack's arms. Soon they were both asleep.

-XXX-

Ianto hadn't really given much thought to how he'd wanted to spend Christmas Day, but this wasn't it.

It wasn't the broken ribs so much, Ianto decided, or the headache that accompanied the tender spot on his skull. The bruises were causing all the problems. They were everywhere. He couldn't get comfortable. Sitting still caused stiffness, moving ached. Even breathing hurt, damn it. But the painkillers made him groggy. And Jack had threatened all sorts of dire things if he didn't take the damn things on schedule. That was their first argument of the day. The first of many.

Jack seemed determined to drive him insane. He was – well he wasn't being Jack. Fussing. Ianto knew the stiffness in his muscles would only get worse if he stayed still, so he'd planned to move around a bit, as much as he comfortably could. But Jack appeared at his side whenever he so much as twitched. When he wasn't ordering him to rest, he was trying to coax Ianto back to bed. Now, _that_ was more like Jack. Ianto was quite happy to go along with that particular suggestion; until Jack made it clear he wasn't going to be sharing the bed this time. This wasn't like Jack at all.

It was a relief when Gwen and Rhys dropped in to visit, on their way to lunch with Gwen's parents. Jack actually left, giving Ianto an hour of blissful peace. Well, it started off as a peace.

Gwen wasn't much help. She just smiled indulgently at Ianto's complaints.

"He's worried about you," she said comfortably.

"He's driving me crazy," Ianto grumbled.

"Would you prefer he didn't care?" Gwen countered.

Ianto would have kicked himself if his legs didn't hurt so much. Of course Gwen wouldn't see a problem with a doting, in-your-face, can-I-get-you-anything version of Jack. It was, in fact, quite probably her idea of the perfect Jack. But it wasn't Ianto's Jack, and that's who he wanted back. Well, perhaps with a bit more capacity for monogamy.

"It's just," Ianto answered feebly, "He wasn't like this before."

Gwen's eyebrows rose. Didn't suit her. "You mean, _before_ when you didn't know whether he'd still be there the next day? _Before_ where you'd look like a kicked puppy half the time and one that'd just been patted the rest? No pleasing some people, is there?"

"Gwen!" Rhys said, shock clear in his tone. He adored Gwen but even he had to admit she tended to open her mouth before her brain got into gear.

"Sorry," Gwen mumbled. Her face dropped into her hands. "That," she said through the hands, "Was a horrible thing to say."

Gwen raised her head. Rhys nodded. "Tell him what you told me," he said encouragingly. After all, he didn't want Ianto looking the other way next time Gwen fell foul of some alien thingy with a weapon. Not that he would. But he'd be tempted, after this.

Gwen looked back at Ianto, eyes pleading for understanding. "If you'd seen him yesterday, Ianto, while you were unconscious. He was so…broken. I've never seen him like that before. And I think…..I think I'm angry with you for doing that to him. Even though it wasn't your fault."

Ianto smiled. A pained smile. He was, Rhys decided with amusement, the perfect host being courteous to an obnoxious guest. Rhys knew that Ianto and Gwen really did care about each other. It was just buried, deep down, where they probably – no, make that definitely - weren't aware of it. On the surface they got along like sandpaper. They were a bit like family. You _love_ each other, of course you do, but that doesn't have to mean you _like_ each other, too. At least not all the time.

"It's OK, Gwen," Ianto said, after an uncomfortable silence. "I think I needed to hear that. I haven't really been thinking about what all this did to him."

"We should go, love," Rhys said decidedly. Before Gwen had the chance to open her mouth and put her foot in it again. And before Ianto hurt himself by throwing a punch.

During the ensuing awkward Merry Christmas and goodbyes, Rhys smiled at Ianto fondly. He was a nice boy. And he kept Jack's mind off Gwen, not to mention his hands, which made him OK in Rhys' book. "Talk to him," he suggested. "Make him talk to you."

Rhys took Gwen's hand firmly. "It works for us," he added, as they left.

Jack returned bearing dinner. Chicken and chips. The takeaway version of a festive feast. At least it wasn't pizza. And he had a gift. Another one. There'd been a bottle of very good scotch and an assortment of ties under the Christmas tree that morning. Some of which Ianto would actually wear. Pretty much what he'd expected.

"You've already given me presents," Ianto pointed out, as Jack dropped the package wordlessly into his lap.

"That was before," Jack explained innocently.

"Before what?"

"Before you gave me a house."

"It's a flat, not a house, and I only gave you half of it," Ianto corrected.

Jack sighed. Ianto had been irritable all day. And picky. But Jack was _not_ going to be drawn into another argument. "Just unwrap the damn thing, would you?"

Ianto smiled. He'd finally got a reaction that sounded like the Jack he knew. Much better.

Ianto smiled in appreciation at the gold-set onyx cufflinks. Nice. Tasteful, even. Again though, not like Jack. His usual method of present shopping was 'one of those, three of those, wrap 'em up for me would you?' before he forgot who he'd bought them for in the first place.

Jack fidgeted, waiting for a reaction. This was why he didn't do sentiment. You felt like such an idiot when you stuffed up. "Do you like them or not?" he asked impatiently.

"Who picked them?" Ianto teased.

Jack swatted gently at his head. "I did. If you don't like them you can change them."

Ianto reached up and grabbed hold of the hand that lingered in his hair. He knew he hadn't imagined the hurt in Jack's voice.

"Of course I like them, Jack. They're lovely."

Jack smiled. "Good, then."

Talk to him, Rhys said. But Jack and Ianto didn't 'talk'. Oh well, worth a try.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

"Does something have to be wrong for me to buy you a present?"

"Usually," Ianto answered stubbornly. "So what is it?

Jack's face sobered. "Nothing."

_Make _him talk, Rhys said. He didn't know Jack. You could have better conversations with a Judoon.

"I know something's wrong," Ianto persisted. "You're not yourself. What it is?"

"It's…..It doesn't matter." But now that he was really looking at him, Ianto could see the shadows in Jack's eyes. Maybe, he thought, I can annoy him enough to get a reaction.

"Did you have to seduce the jeweler to get the shop open?"

"You little shit," Jack growled. "I wouldn't do that." He watched Ianto's eyebrows lift. Damn the man, he knew everything. And he forgave me anyway. But did he know I only ever did it to try to convince myself I could be happy with someone else? And that it never worked?

"Not any more," Jack amended guiltily. He raised the hand holding his to his lips. "Never again, I promise."

"So what's changed, Jack?" Ianto demanded. "What's different? Why are y_ou_ different?"

"Bloody hell, Ianto, isn't it obvious? You're the smart one, work it out."

"Maybe I could if you weren't keeping me tanked up on painkillers. As it is you'll have to tell me yourself."

"You nearly died," Jack yelled finally, his voice rasping as if the words had been torn from his throat. He collapsed bonelessly to the couch beside Ianto, all the fight drained out of him. "I thought you'd died."

"But I didn't," Ianto answered reassuringly. Jack's pain hurt more than the broken ribs. Ianto reached up to wipe the gathering tears away with his thumb. "I'm still here."

"But you will," softer than a whisper. "You will one day, and I can't…." Jack's head dropped to rest lightly against Ianto's chest, and the treacherous tears flowed again. Ianto's heart beat beneath his ear, each thud a reminder that it would one stop beating. And the hands that threaded comfortingly through his hair would one day stop moving. Soon. Too soon. Always too soon.

"Yeah, I will," Ianto agreed softly. "And you'll go on."

"Not by choice." Jack's voice was muffled. He was still listening to that heartbeat.

"But you won't have a choice, will you?"

Jack's head rose slowly. "Guess not."

"So will you do something for me?"

"What?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"Stop the bloody fussing," Ianto pleaded. "You're driving me insane. I could have a good half-century left. I don't want to spend it being treated like a piece of glass."

Jack laughed shakily. He should have realized Ianto would know what to say. Ianto knew everything. Fifty years. That helped. Comforting. There were no protests this time as he swept Ianto back up into his arms. Fifty years wasn't long enough, but it _was_ enough to push the fear away. For now.

It wasn't until Ianto was asleep once more, safe in Jack's arms, that the fear inched back. Torchwood wouldn't give them fifty years. And Ianto _was_ just like glass. One day he'd break and Jack wouldn't be able to put him back together again. And when he breaks, Jack thought hollowly, so will I.

But not yet. Not tonight. Jack breathed in the scent of coffee and tried to ignore the other odors that clung to Ianto's skin. The sour sweat of pain, the metallic tang of painkillers. He forced away the choking fear of impending loss, tried to think only of the joy of the present. But while the bruises were still fresh, the reminder of mortality was too close. In time, the joy would outweigh the fear. But not yet. Until then, Jack would have to find a mask of his own to wear. Pretend to himself that everything was fine until he believed it. That would be his New Year's resolution. To pretend himself into reality.

**New Year will be next. Sorry it is taking so long but it's not good enough yet. **


	13. New Year part 1

**It's New Year so expect fireworks. (Not that sort!) And fluff, of course. And angst.**

**This story takes place between Christmas and New Year - in the elastic space between the end of S2 and CoE.**

"What do you think you're doing?"

Ianto turned rather stiffly away from the wardrobe. "Trying to find some clothes," he answered placidly. "Boxers aren't really suitable for daytime wear."

Jack was standing in the bedroom doorway, carrying a tray on which reposed breakfast. Toast and orange juice. He wasn't about to risk making coffee.

"Boxers are ideal for someone who's about to spend the day in bed," Jack scolded. "You should be resting."

Ianto smirked. "Not what you said last night."

Jack deposited the tray on the bedside table and came to stand behind his lover, sliding possessive arms around his waist and planting a noisy kiss on his shoulder. "I'll have you know," he announced, "the last time I was that careful, the other party had poisonous spines."

Ianto made a gagging sound. "Retcon."

"Hmmm?" Ianto's neck was one of the few places that hadn't been damaged. Jack was currently giving it his full attention and didn't really want to be distracted by what promised to be a fairly meaningless discussion.

"That's a disgusting image," Ianto explained. "I'd really like to forget it."

"It was fun, though," Jack persisted, in the tone Ianto knew meant something revolting was on its way. "Not as much fun as you, of course. I could just see you with a few nasty spines. In nasty places."

"Stop!" Ianto made an attempt to cover his hands with his ears, but dropped them as his abused muscles protested against the rapid movement.

Jack saw the wince. "Back to bed," he ordered firmly, seizing Ianto's hand and leading him back to the rumpled bed.

"That really doesn't mesh with taking it easy," Ianto teased, leaning back into the pillows Jack propped behind him.

"I was only offering breakfast," Jack said. "Though I could be distracted."

But distraction wouldn't be easy. Not in the daylight, not when he could see the checkerboard pattern of bruises across Ianto's torso. The imprint of the net that was all that had kept him alive. The warning of his mortality. Of the death that would come too soon, far too soon, even if by some miracle Torchwood spared Ianto long enough for him to die of old age. Don't think about it, Jack ordered himself. Lie to yourself. You're good at that. But the next thing he noticed was the splattering of red dots amongst the panorama of purple and yellow bruises. Fading now, thankfully.

"The rash is nearly gone," Jack noted with relief. He felt responsible for the rash. That was Gwen's fault, though. She was into herbal medicines at the moment and she'd given Jack some arnica cream to apply to Ianto's bruises. How was Jack supposed to know Ianto was allergic to arnica?

"It doesn't itch any more," Ianto said comfortingly. "Those pills Martha prescribed really helped."

They shared breakfast companionably, arguing about crumbs in the bed.

"I could have gone to the kitchen," Ianto grumbled, sweeping up crumbs with his hands and plopping them back into the tray.

"Martha said you had to rest," Jack countered.

"But I've _been_ resting," Ianto grumbled. "For days now. I've read every book we own. Twice."

"I know you're bored," Jack agreed, pulling Ianto gently into his arms. "I wish I could keep you company, but I can't leave Gwen alone. There's a Rift spike predicted for this afternoon." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Stirring Ianto's sense of duty was the last thing he'd intended.

Here it was, just what he should have known to expect. That speculative look in Ianto's eyes. The determined set of his jaw. One of these days, Jack told himself sternly, I'll have to learn to keep my mouth shut.

"I'm not taking the strong painkillers anymore. I could come into work, Jack."

"No."

"I'm sure I heard Martha say something about light duties," Ianto wheedled.

"I said, No." Jack purposely didn't look at him. Those blue eyes were too persuasive.

"You can't expect me to just snuggle up in bed with a book while you and Gwen are out there risking yourselves."

"We'd be in more danger if we had to look out for you as well," Jack said harshly. "You're not strong enough."

"I know I'm not fit for field work yet," Ianto persisted. "But I could stay at the Hub and coordinate. Like I used to. It's not safe, for either of you, out in the field with no back up."

Logic, too. Damn. Jack knew he was being unreasonable. But less than a week ago he'd believed Ianto was dead and the memory of it still chilled him to the core. Reasonable or not, Jack wanted Ianto at home, where he was safe. Not at Torchwood, half healed, slower and probably still determined to do everything he had before.

"We're managing," Jack said firmly.

"Yeah? And how many times have you died since Christmas?"

They stared at each other stubbornly, breakfast forgotten. Blue eyes locked on blue. Jack looked away first. He knew Ianto hated being fussed over. And he knew he was being overprotective.

"I'm just trying to look after you," he grumbled. "And you're making it impossible."

Ianto smiled faintly. He was much more comfortable with an annoyed Jack than a doting one. "I'm sorry," he said, taking Jack's hand in his. "But I'm not used to being looked after, Jack."

Jack looked up, trademark smile back in place, comforted by the strength of the hand gripping his. "This is where I say something cheesy about you getting used to it, right?"

Ianto chuckled. Jack was relieved that the laugh wasn't accompanied by the wince that had been there since Christmas. Maybe he was improving, after all.

"We don't do cheesy," Ianto reminded Jack sternly. They'd both needed reminding of that sort of thing, these past few days.

"Compromise?" Jack suggested, eyebrows lifting.

"Depends," Ianto answered cautiously.

"We call Martha. Get her to draft out a list of what you can and can't do, and you stick to it. OK?"

Ianto thought about it while Jack got dressed. It shouldn't be too hard to work around. He just had to take the list literally. Martha couldn't possibly think of everything. There'd be plenty of leeway.

"Seems fair," he agreed, when Jack returned.

Jack eyed Ianto suspiciously. He'd given up too easily. "And," Jack added, "You have to get her approval before you attempt anything she doesn't cover."

Ianto muttered something under his breath.

"You agreed too easily," Jack explained smugly. "You should have come up with a few more token protests."

"You've already won your point," Ianto grumbled. "You don't have to gloat as well."

Jack smiled. "So we give her today to compile your list of do's and don'ts, and you start tomorrow."

Ianto said something in Welsh that Jack was fairly sure wasn't flattering.

Jack chuckled as he made his way to the door. He rarely won a war of words with Ianto. And he couldn't resist a parting shot. "If you're a good boy and do what the doctor says," he called back over his shoulder. "I'll take you to the New Year's Eve fireworks."

The force behind the pillow Ianto threw at his head was comforting. Ianto was definitely getting stronger. And his aim hadn't been affected at all.

-XXX-

It was good to get back to the Hub. Just being inside the cavernous building made Ianto feel less like an invalid. Wearing a suit again made him feel more, well, more like himself. Even though Jack had to tie his tie for him. And fasten the cufflinks. Ianto didn't usually wear cufflinks to work. But when Jack was helping him get dressed, he'd brought out the pair he'd given Ianto for Christmas with a hopeful look in his eyes. Ianto had melted, of course. Not that he let it show. They didn't do sentiment. Well, not at work.

Gwen greeted him warmly. A hug, even. That was nice. And she noticed the cufflinks.

"You got the black ones, then," she said brightly.

Ianto told himself it was stupid to be disappointed. But he'd liked the thought that Jack had picked them out by himself.

"Gwen helped me decide," Jack said happily. "There was a pair with red stones, too."

"Garnets," Gwen supplied.

"And I nearly got those," Jack continued, "'Cause you look so good in red."

"But I thought you'd get more wear out of the onyx," Gwen finished. "Because black goes with everything."

"Thanks," Ianto muttered. He didn't know who he was thanking, or why. All he knew was hearing Gwen and Jack finishing each others sentences made his stomach churn. Which was ridiculous. So Jack hadn't picked out his gift by himself. What was the big deal about that? He should be pleased Jack cared enough to get someone else's advice.

Jack watched Ianto's mask slide into place and wondered what he'd done wrong this time.

He hadn't done anything. The problem was what he hadn't done. He hadn't told Ianto about all the medication he'd been taking. Jack was managing all that, as he had since the accident. First, because Ianto was too drugged to manage it safely himself, then partly from habit and partly because it made Jack feel as though he was contributing something. And Ianto trusted Jack, so he hadn't questioned what he gave him, or why.

And Jack trusted Martha. And he'd been feeling so damn _guilty_ about causing the rash that made Ianto's injuries more uncomfortable. Bruises were bad enough, but itchy bruises had to be worse. When Martha had sent over a prescription with the warning 'these are strong, but they'll clear it up immediately' he hadn't spared a thought for the side effects of steroids. But large doses of steroids caused mood swings. Anxiety.

The Rift alarm sounded. "Splott," Gwen reported.

"Bloody Splott," Jack grumbled. He wanted to stay with Ianto and sort out whatever was wrong. But the Rift didn't give a damn about things like that. And Ianto didn't like him making a fuss. They could sort it out later.

"Off you go, then," Ianto said professionally. "I'll clear the traffic."

He decided to make himself a coffee while they got themselves sorted. Coffee would improve his mood. Coffee always made him feel better.

Ianto didn't know he'd been taking steroids all week. If he'd known, he'd have understood why little things annoyed him so much at the moment. Known not to take them seriously. And he definitely wouldn't be drinking coffee. Caffeine increased the side effects of steroids.

Ianto brought the steaming mug back to the desk. He logged into the CCTV. They were still in the car park. He sipped his coffee and wondered why the sight of Gwen and Jack laughing together as they climbed into the SUV bothered him so much.

**Hope you like it so far. More soon-ish...**


	14. New Year part 2

**Hi everyone. Sorry this is turning out more angst than fluff...but it will get better**

"It'll be chaos here on New Years Eve," Gwen commented, as they passed a huge notice warning about street closures.

"Fireworks on the Bay," Jack answered, smiling. "Hope we don't get a spike that night. I promised Ianto we'd go see the display. He's going stir-crazy, stuck inside all this time." Jack had already convinced himself Ianto was just upset about being left in the Hub. He'd get over that. It was only for another week or so. Well, longer if Jack could stretch it out. Ianto was safer at the Hub than in the field. And while Ianto was safe, Jack was happy. Simple. Maybe he should just tell him that. Then, again, maybe not. They didn't, as they constantly reminded each other, do sentiment.

Gwen laughed. "It's been less than a week."

Jack laughed too. "Apparently having me looking after him made every hour feel like a day. And not in a good way." I've got to stop being so protective, Jack reminded himself. He hates it. And he doesn't need it. I'm only doing it for myself.

Gwen smiled affectionately at her boss. It was nice to see Jack so content. He probably didn't even realize he was humming as he drove. Gwen had done a fair amount of soul-searching over the past week, and she wasn't overly pleased with what she'd found. But she knew now that the feelings she harbored for Jack were no more substantial than her teenage obsessions with movie stars. It was time to put them away with her other crushes. Rhys was all she needed. And Ianto was who Jack needed – and all he wanted. She could see that now. And Gwen was pleased to realize she was happy for them both.

Jack _was _feeling content. For the moment, anyway. And just a few weeks ago he'd been a master of the art of being happy in the moment. It was, he decided, a skill he'd have to relearn if he was going to shake off this constant dread of losing Ianto. And he had to. It was staining every moment together.

So what did he have at the moment? All good. Ianto was recovering well. Even that damned rash was nearly gone. What else? Oh yeah, they'd be going home – home! – _together! - _tonight. _Every _night from now on. Even the Rift was playing nice. Jack expected an easy drive in the sunshine and back to Ianto by lunchtime. The signature of this spike was the same type they'd managed all week. They'd arrive at the co-ordinates to find another batch of bewildered lizard-beings whose race had just discovered vortex manipulation. All the Tsaurians needed was the equivalent of a map and they'd get themselves home, all apologetic for intruding and ready to tell everyone back on Tsauria about the oh-so-nice Earthlings who'd helped them. Gwen even had a gift ready – a data recorder stuffed with information about Rifts, so the Tsaurians could start factoring Rift avoidance into any future travel. A PR exercise, pretty much.

"Road-works coming up," Ianto announced via their earpieces. "If you take the next left and the second right beyond that you'll be safely around them."

"Thanks, Yan" Jack answered, remembering too late he wasn't supposed to use that name when anyone else could hear. "To," he added hurriedly. Maybe it was time to discuss that no-sentiment rule. It was becoming annoying.

Back at the Hub, Ianto frowned. He'd picked the hesitation in Jack's voice, the change of tone. Jack wasn't happy any more. Which was exactly what was bothering Ianto. Jack hadn't laughed properly since Christmas. Since…since he'd given Jack part-ownership of the flat. Was that the problem? Was Jack regretting it?

Ianto made himself another cup of coffee and brooded. He could clearly remember making the decision to offer Jack half of his home. A reckless decision, perhaps, but he'd gotten to the point where he just needed to _know_, one way or the other. Even a refusal would have helped – at least he'd know where he stood. And maybe a refusal would have been the spur he needed to just walk away, end it. But Jack hadn't refused. The documents were signed and witnessed, already lodged with a lawyer. So why, Ianto asked himself, do I still feel like this?

Ianto checked Martha's list of light duties. He wanted to do something to stop the brooding. Filing. How exciting, he could do the filing. But it would fill the time until Jack returned. And it was bound to have piled up while he'd been away. He took another cup of coffee to the archives and set to work. Gwen and Jack would contact him if they needed anything. And any alerts would route to his PDA.

Filing gave him too much opportunity to think, though. It was the timing, he decided gloomily. Should have waited until things settled down. Let him decide when he wasn't still dealing with relief I was still alive and guilt for taking me onto that damn ship in the first place.

He knew how upset Jack was when he'd thought Ianto was dead. But he'd been broken hearted when Owen died, too, that first time. Desperate enough to go after that second resurrection glove. And he'd been miserable when Owen died the second time – and Tosh. Oh, Tosh, Ianto thought. I wish I could talk to you about this. You always helped me sort my head out.

Filing all done. Retrieval next. Ianto found the files Jack and Gwen had requested for research and made his was back up to the main Hub. His Bluetooth buzzed just as he dropped Gwen's pile onto her desk. More Tsaurians, Gwen reported. Just as expected. Ianto hadn't seen the Tsaurians, probably never would, now that Gwen had delivered the Rift data. They'd avoid Earth in future. Just my luck, Ianto thought glumly, we finally get some benevolent visitors and I'm stuck in here.

"It's nearly lunchtime," Gwen's voice echoed through the earpiece. "We'll pick up something, shall we?"

"Yeah, thanks," Ianto answered. He'd been looking forward to getting out of the Hub even just for long enough to collect sandwiches or whatever. Damn. But Gwen was only trying to be nice.

"Why don't you meet us on the Plass?" Jack suggested.

Ianto smiled at the prospect of getting some sunshine. "Sounds good," he replied.

"Don't forget your meds," Jack added. "In my desk drawer."

"Yes, Jack," Ianto answered, feeling a blush rise as he heard Gwen giggle in the background.

"Has he been doing that all week?" she asked, still giggling.

"Or worse," Ianto responded, slamming files onto Jack's desk with enough force to make his bruises protest. Had they been discussing him the entire time they were away?

"I did try to tell you," he added bitterly. "And you tore strips off me for it, as I recall."

"I didn't realize it was this bad," Gwen said, flinching at the memory. She'd really let her mouth run away with her that time. On Christmas Day, too. "No wonder you wanted to come back to work."

Ianto's surge of anger died. He was surprised at himself for feeling it, and embarrassed he'd let it show. None of this was Gwen's fault.

"Hey!" Jack protested. "Aren't you going to defend me?"

Sighing, Ianto tugged Jack's drawer open and fished out the packet of pills, smiling in spite of himself. All carefully labeled. Date, time and dosage. Jack's writing, but not like Jack at all. Not like Jack. This is what I've done to him, Ianto realized. This is what he's done to himself. For me.

"Always," Ianto assured Jack, feeling a lump rise in this throat. This was all wrong. This wasn't the way he wanted it. He didn't want Jack staying with him out of some twisted sense of duty, or guilt, or whatever the hell it was. He'd pushed Jack too far, played on his guilt. And he owed him a chance to back out.

An alarm shrilled in the main Hub. For once, Ianto actually welcomed the sound. Nothing like work to push emotion back where it belonged. And sending Jack on the alert would give him the time he needed. A bit of space to come to terms with the moment when he'd give Jack his freedom. What greater gift, really, could you offer someone you love?

"Something's coming through," Ianto announced, hurrying back to the Rift monitor. Nothing. He checked the other feeds. "Police alert," he corrected himself. "Stolen car, driver wearing a fish mask."

Jack and Gwen groaned in unison. "Blowfish."

"I'd say so," Ianto agreed. "Sending you the co-ordinates."

Jack chuckled. "Nothing like a good chase to give me an appetite. We'll be back soon. Bearing lunch. Don't forget your meds."

Ianto sighed. "Taking them now, Jack." He looked at the packet of pills in his hand and shrugged. Might as well. Lugging the files around had reawakened the aches. He poured himself another coffee and swallowed the pills, noticing that the ones for his allergy were down to half-doses now. That was good. Should be finished with them soon. And when he was fully recovered, Jack would stop feeling guilty. Maybe he could wait until then. Give himself another week. Or maybe dragging it out would just make things worse.

He listened idly to Gwen and Jack chatting as they chased the Blowfish. Just one. It'd be easy. They'd be back soon. Yep, they'd cornered it.

"Jack's about to read it the riot act," Gwen reported. Ianto heard the car door open and slam shut again. "It's arguing….oh SHIT." The roar of a car engine. Gunshots.

"Gwen," Ianto yelled. "What's wrong?"

No response. Just noise. And Gwen' voice, cursing, in exactly the way a lady shouldn't.

Ianto fumbled in his pocket. No car keys. Of course. Jack had them. No driving while taking those damn painkillers.

"Ianto?" Gwen, finally.

"Gwen," Ianto gasped, relief flooding through him. "What happened?"

"Blowfish tried to double back on us," Gwen explained, breathing raggedly. "It…it drove straight over Jack." She gulped. "I shot it."

"Jack. Is he…?" Stupid question. Of course he was dead. Again.

"He's dead," Gwen admitted. A siren wailed in the background.

"But you're OK?"

"Yeah," Gwen said. "But…" And Ianto realized why her breathing was ragged. She'd been crying.

"Jack'll be OK." Ianto said, trying to be reassuring. And failing. There had to be something seriously wrong for Gwen to be this upset. "How bad is it, Gwen?"

"It drove right over him," Gwen repeated. "He's…it was…Oh hell, I've got to go. An ambulance just arrived."

"Stay with him," Ianto pleaded, even more worried now that she'd avoided answering. "Don't let them take him. I'm on my way."

"You can't drive," Gwen protested.

"Taxi."

"Oh, of course." A shaky laugh. "Hurry."

Ianto fretted uselessly as the taxi sped through the streets. An icy chill settled in his soul. There had to be a time Jack didn't come back from. And every time, every single time, he was convinced this was it. And Gwen didn't fall apart over nothing. Maybe this _was_ it.

**Confused? Hope not. Remember Ianto is having drug-induced mood swings!**


	15. New Year part 3

**Still with the angst. I will get around to the fluff sometime. Hope you enjoy.**

The taxi deposited Ianto at the edge of a gathering crowd. He shoved his way through; apologizing to the people he pushed aside and ignoring the protests from his ribs and bruises. Towards the middle, police tried with little success to keep the encroaching crowd away from the spectacle. They were going to need Retcon, he mused. Lots and lots of Retcon. There must be nearly a hundred people here, viewing the twin impossibilities of an alien corpse and a resurrecting Jack. Because Gwen must have overreacted. Jack had come back from dozens of road accidents. One of the snazzy little sports cars the Blowfish favored wouldn't keep Jack down for long. Not a chance.

Ianto waved his Torchwood ID in the face of the nearest police officer, his mind gratefully seizing on the distraction. Free tea and coffee for the spectators, they'd done that before. Comfort drinks to help them get over the trauma. Wouldn't take long to set up. Drop some Retcon in the urns; let the people make their own beverages. Easy. Only he still hadn't come up with a way of avoiding the use of instant coffee.

The police officer stepped back to let Ianto through, as they always did. It used to give him a rush, watching _police_ make way for him, little Ianto Jones from the estates. But today he hardly noticed it, desperate to be at Jack's side before he woke up. Maybe for the last time, if he could hang on to his resolve to set Jack free.

Gwen looked up at his approach, red-rimmed eyes blinking. But however upset she was, she'd done her job well. No need for that Retcon, after all. Both bodies were covered, cloth bunched loosely to hide the distinctive Blowfish shape.

"Is this him?" Ianto asked, kneeling beside her.

Gwen nodded. Ianto reached for the corner of the sheet. Gwen's hand closed tightly around his wrist.

"He doesn't like anything covering his face when he wakes up," Ianto explained, confused. Gwen knew that already. She shouldn't need reminding.

"He's not waking up, Ianto," she said softly. "Not yet," she added hastily, as the young man's face paled. "You know how it is. The more severe the injuries…."

Ianto finally registered the vehicle standing nearby. The one that the Blowfish had driven - over Jack. It wasn't a dinky little sports car. It was big, sturdy. A shiny red SUV with a mottled red metal grille. When did they start color-coordinating grilles? Surely it should be black, or silver. Actually, it _was_ silver, beneath the red. The red that wasn't paint. Blood. Jack's blood.

Warning delivered, Gwen's hand released Ianto's wrist, moving to rest on his shoulder instead. Ianto raised the sheet, looked beneath. Lowered the sheet again, carefully draping it so that Jack's face was uncovered. Only his face. Because no one else needed to see that the only thing keeping Jack in one piece was his clothing.

It was a good thing, really, that he hadn't had lunch.

Gwen squeezed his shoulder. "Are you OK?"

Ianto closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Didn't help. He was only breathing in the scent of blood. Jack's blood. And this was no time to be fighting a roiling stomach.

"We have to get him back," Ianto said, with as much steadiness as he could force into his voice. "We're going to need a stretcher."

Gwen heaved a huge breath. "I know. But every time I took moved away to look for one, that damned ambulance officer tried to pounce on him. I only fobbed her off by saying she couldn't take him until his partner arrived. Now you're here, she'll be back."

Partner. No one had called him that before. Not even Jack. Ianto clamped firmly down on the tiny spear of warmth. It wasn't real. Just something he'd mistakenly trapped Jack into. Just a ploy to keep the ambulance officer away.

"I'll stay with him," Ianto said, finding Jack's hand under the sheet. He sighed. "I'm not much use for anything else at the moment. We need more people, Gwen. You shouldn't have had to manage this on your own."

Her hand tightened on his shoulder again. "I'm not on my own, now. You keep Officer Vulture off him. You're better at cover stories than I am anyway. I'll get that stretcher."

Ianto glanced at the shrouded corpse of the Blowfish. Jack would tell him it was pointless to hate the alien. Gwen had already killed it, after all. "Two stretchers," he corrected.

As Gwen departed on her errand, another figure took her place beside Jack's body.

"We should take him now," a gentle voice, professionally calm. Ianto looked up to see a woman in an ambulance officer's uniform. Officer Vulture, he presumed.

"No need," Ianto answered. "He's Torchwood. We'll take him."

The woman eyed him doubtfully. "He should go to the hospital," she said gently. Ianto could almost feel sorry for her. First Gwen, now him. She was only trying to do her job.

The tiniest quiver ran through Jack's hand. Ianto had felt that before. Beneath the sheet, cells were regrouping, bones and flesh beginning to knit back together. The resulting wave of relief was almost as nauseating as the fear he'd been choking down since he arrived. But speed was vital now. They had to get Jack back to the Hub before he woke up. No time to waste on soothing Officer Vulture's pride.

Ianto did the single eyebrow lift that he'd practiced for hours in front of a mirror. Worth all the effort. It always worked. Officer Vulture, no, her nametag said Brown, meant well, but they couldn't afford any more delay.

"Do you really think," Ianto demanded coldly, "That a hospital can do anything for him?"

"No," she admitted, sounding shocked. Obviously this wasn't the way bereaved partners were supposed to behave. "But…"

"You're just following procedure," Ianto finished. "And so are we. Torchwood procedure. And I think you'll find, Officer Brown, that we outrank you."

Gwen returned with the stretchers and delivery the final volley. "My colleague here is injured," Gwen announced coolly. "So you can help me get Jack into our vehicle, thanks."

Between the two of them, the poor woman didn't stand a chance.

-XXX-

Gwen helped Ianto get Jack onto the autopsy table.

"The Blowfish?" she asked.

Ianto shrugged. "Do you want to do the autopsy?"

Gwen's face wrinkled in distaste. "Incinerator then," she decided, and headed back to the SUV.

All those months looking after Lisa had taught Ianto how to detach himself from the horror of dealing with the damaged body of a loved one. Emotions carefully filed away for future reference, Ianto removed the remnants of Jack's clothing and bagged it for the incinerator. Company for the Blowfish. Jack's body, he noted thankfully, had already drawn itself back into one piece. He'd had visions of having to put it back together himself.

Gwen returned while he was washing away the dirt and grit from the raw wounds that covered Jack's body. She picked up another cloth and they worked together in silence, determined to get the task done before consciousness returned.

When they'd finished, Ianto proceeded calmly to the bathroom and let the nausea have its way. There wasn't really much to throw up, anyway. Still hadn't had lunch. He could hear Gwen losing the same battle across the hallway.

They sat quietly on either side of Jack, waiting. Not talking. Nothing needed to be said.

"Why don't you go home, Gwen?" Ianto suggested eventually. "We don't know how long this will take."

Gwen eyed him doubtfully. "Do you know what Jack will do to me when he wakes up and finds out I've left you alone?"

_If he wakes up_, Ianto thought. His body was trying to mend itself, but what if it couldn't? But he couldn't tell Gwen about his fears. Couldn't even let them show while she was here. It would only make her feel worse.

"I'll be OK, Gwen," Ianto assured her. "It isn't as though I've got to do anything for him. I just want to sit with him. And Rhys will be waiting for you."

"I could tell him to come here," Gwen offered.

Ianto looked at her, eyebrows lifting. "Do you really want him to see this?"

Gwen sighed. "No, of course not." She watched Ianto silently for a few moments. "You want to be alone with him, don't you?"

Ianto nodded.

Gwen rose decisively. "And you'll call me if you need me." It wasn't a question, but he nodded again anyway. "And, um, don't forget your meds."

She was right. Ianto made his way into Jack's office. Only one packet left. He couldn't afford to be distracted by his own discomfort if he wanted to help Jack through this. And he'd need coffee. He didn't want to fall asleep until he knew Jack was all right. He gulped the pills down with the first scalding mouthful of coffee and returned to Jack's side.

As the cog ground shut behind Gwen, Ianto remembered the last time Jack had been this thoroughly killed. Abaddon. The only thing that had brought him back was Gwen's kiss. Maybe he shouldn't have let her leave after all.

But it wasn't long before the screaming began.

-XXX-

Ianto's voice called to him through the pain. Ianto's touch anchored him. Jack convulsed finally back into life, still clutching Ianto's hand within his. His throat was raw from the screaming. His lungs were burning. But it didn't matter. He was home.

Ianto?" he gasped between those choking first breaths.

"I'm here, Jack." Oh, those beautiful Welsh vowels. Now he truly knew he was alive again. And as long as he could open his eyes to find those blue ones looking back at him, coming back was worth all the pain.

So why wasn't Ianto smiling?


	16. New Year part 4

**First the apology - I didn't intend to ruin anyone's dinner with the last chapter! So sorry if you found it disturbing, I tried to avoid being graphic but either I didn't succeed or your imaginations are way too good. In reparation I can only offer an early dose of fluff...hope it is soothing. **

"What's happened?" Jack asked fuzzily, when his throat had healed enough for speech.

"The Blowfish drove over the top of you," Ianto informed him, his voice dull. "Made a hell of a mess."

Jack blinked. "Sorry," he hazarded. OK, maybe his neurons weren't firing properly yet, but was it fair of Ianto to get angry at him over making a mess when he'd _died_?

"I've never seen you that badly damaged," Ianto said, his hand clenching around Jack's. "I thought maybe you wouldn't come back from it."

Oh. Jack knew exactly how _that _felt. He'd lived through that a week ago.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, understanding now. He tugged on the hand he still held, pulling Ianto into an embrace.

"You knew I'd come back," he said, in an attempt at reassurance. "I always come back."

"I_ never _know you'll come back," Ianto answered, dropping his head onto Jack's, breathing him in. Letting go was the right thing to do. Why did the right thing always hurt so much?

Jack slid his arms more closely around his lover's waist, feeling the tension in the muscles beneath his hands. There was nothing he could say, really. There was no way to quell the fear of loss. They could only make the most of now. And his current lack of clothing suggested quite an appealing way of appreciating the now. His hands moved, caressing lightly, mindful of the broken ribs.

But Ianto wasn't relaxing into his touch. Jack searched his mind while his hands searched for a bruise-free piece of skin. He remembered the last time he'd come back to life, head resting in Ianto's lap, and how he'd nearly embarrassed Ianto in front of Gwen. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they weren't alone. "Where's Gwen?"

"She's gone home," Ianto answered. "She knows you've revived. I already called her." He wants Gwen, Ianto thought sadly. He's holding me and he still wants her. I'm just the consolation prize. That's all I ever was. And it would have been enough, if I hadn't pushed him into more. But I can't go back now. Now I have to let him go.

"Do you want me to call Gwen back and tell her to come in?" Ianto offered woodenly.

Jack's arms wreathed up around his shoulders, pulling him lower. "Course not," he mumbled into Ianto's neck. "Not unless you want an audience."

If he can't have Gwen, Ianto's mind ran, he'll settle for me. But I can't do this anymore. I want to, but I can't. All or nothing I guess.

Ianto pulled away. "It's late, Jack. You should get some real sleep. So should I."

Jack smiled, letting a yawn escape. He was right. No point starting this now. And the autopsy table wasn't the most romantic location. Especially not when they could go home and be comfortable. "OK then. Get me some clothes and we'll go home."

"I was thinking maybe you should just use your bunker tonight."

Jack shook his head. "Not big enough. You need to stretch out with those bruises, or you'll cramp up again."

Ianto shrugged. "I could just go home." Perhaps it would be easier if they just drifted apart.

"You can't drive yet."

"Taxi."

"Only if I'm in it."

Ianto smiled at the persistence, his resolve weakening. One more night then. One last time, perhaps.

"I'll get your clothes," he agreed.

-XXX-

It was terribly unfair, Jack considered, that he could die so spectacularly and be full of beans already, while Ianto was a pale wreck slumped on the couch. Since they'd been home, they'd showered – individually, damn it – and Jack made dinner. Chicken soup. From a can. Ianto watched his every move with an intensity Jack found slightly disturbing.

Ianto watched Jack looking after him. All wrong, still. He'd allowed himself this one last night, but it wasn't the same. Jack wasn't the same. There was no going back, not for either of them. When he told Jack to leave, he'd either storm off with hurt pride or fly through the door like a bird released from its cage. Ianto closed his eyes. At the very least, he could try to pretend normality, just for tonight. Banter, argue, all the old things. All the good things. He could do that.

"You've overdone it today, haven't you?" Jack asked, trying not to sound accusing. It annoyed him when Ianto was in pain and wouldn't admit it. Hadn't even asked for his painkillers. But for the first time since being injured, he'd taken them without complaint when Jack offered them.

"I didn't have much choice," Ianto answered defensively. "It was too much for Gwen to handle alone. We need more people, Jack. Especially if you're going to keep on with the pointless heroic gestures."

"Pointless?" Jack echoed.

"Gwen said you yelled at the Blowfish. You provoked it. That was pointless. You could have just sedated it. Or shot it. Anything rather than let it…God Jack, you were in _pieces._"

Jack deposited the bowls of soup on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch beside his lover, holding him too tightly, with guilt raging through his soul. He understood now why Ianto was watching him so closely. Hell, he'd been watching Ianto like that all week, now he thought about it. Watching him as though every minute was the last one, because it damn near had been.

A month ago, he would have laughed this off. A month ago, he'd forgotten what it felt like to lose someone you loved. He'd never forget again. And he had to stop putting Ianto through that.

Jack forced his arms to loosen and tipped his lover's head up so that he could look into his eyes. Fuzzy blue, dulled from fatigue and pain. "You're right. I was careless. I'm sorry, Ianto. I promise I'll be more careful in future. Will that help?"

Ianto nodded. He reached for his bowl and started spooning soup into his mouth without tasting it. Maybe Jack would keep that promise even after he'd left. What did the future matter, anyway? There was only tonight. One last night. And if he kept on like this he'd ruin the night for both of them. Be normal, he ordered himself.

"Still need more people," Ianto mumbled around his mouthful. Might as well press the advantage while he had one. "Or let me go back to active duty."

"Not bloody likely. Look at you." Jack knew he was being overprotective, but right now he was justified, and he'd make the most of it.

"I did OK today," Ianto argued.

"Your idea of OK," Jack grumbled. "Is totally different from mine. You're exhausted."

Ianto opened his mouth to continue the argument.

"All right, I'll get someone," Jack said hastily. "Short term contract. Until you're recovered. Will that shut you up?"

Evidently not.

"How exactly do you 'get someone', Jack? Are you planning to pop down to the employment office and borrow an alien catcher? Is that even a job category?"

Jack waited smugly for a pause in the tirade. "Mickey Smith," Jack announced. "Has set himself up as an independent. Hires out to UNIT sometimes. We can get him for the spikes."

Ianto's mouth closed into a thin line, his expression thoughtful. Jack paused briefly to savor his victory before delivering the coup de grace.

"So no more arguing Ianto. You agreed to light duties for another week, and I'm holding you to that." Brilliant opening, Jack congratulated himself, taking the empty bowl from Ianto's hand and setting it back on the coffee table. "Unless," he added with a hopeful leer, "You'd rather I hold you to something else?" And he gave his hands permission to roam again.

Ianto tried to lose himself in the teasing banter, tried to remember how to melt beneath that familiar touch, but it wasn't enough anymore. Stuff one more night, Ianto thought savagely. I can't fake this for one more minute. He pulled away so sharply his ribs creaked.

"Sod off, Jack. If I'm not fit for field work, I'm not fit for games either."

Jack grinned, happy to see the flash of fire, the sign of returning strength. Even if it meant a knock back. "Is this payback for all the dodging I did after your accident? Believe me, Yan, that was torture. The things I put myself through for you!"

Ianto took a deep breath. This was it. "Like accepting half the flat, you mean?"

"No, that was selfish," Jack answered cheerfully. He'd been thinking for a while now that it was unfair he'd taken that as a gift. He should have at least _offered _to pay for his half.

The response shook Ianto to the core. Jack agreed it was selfish. And he was right.

"I know," he said, in a voice that was almost a whisper, forcing the words out. "But it's not too late to change your mind. There's a cooling-off period on all contracts."

Odd feeling. No feeling. Detachment. He was outside himself, hearing the words, listening to himself giving his own happiness away.

Jack's hands froze, his mind froze with them. "What?"

Ianto took the opportunity to escape, taking their dishes to the sink. The bowls clattered together in rhythm with his shaking hands as he washed them. "Thirty days, I think. Plenty of time left." He'll go now, Ianto told himself. Just hold it together for a few more moments, and he'll go.

Footsteps behind him, those arms around him. And he wanted to turn and bury his head in Jack's chest, but he couldn't face him, not yet. Why was goodbye so damn hard? He braced himself mentally, ready for the laugh, the relief, and the 'I'm glad you feel that way too.' But it didn't happen.

"I don't want to change my mind." Jack's voice was puzzled, not relieved. "Why would I?"

He tried to turn Ianto to face him, but the Welshman wouldn't turn, wouldn't look at him.

A chill settled along Jack's spine. He knew he'd been overprotective, but surely it hadn't made Ianto angry enough to throw him out. Had it?

"Ianto, are you…do you really want me to leave? Cause I….I don't want to. I love…..this place."

Deep breath, Ianto told himself. Let him go. Set him free.

"I don't believe you, Jack. You've been unhappy ever since you signed the contracts."

His voice was strong, he was proud of that, even though his mind chanted 'Don't cry, don't cry. Don't be a bloody _wimp_.'

Jack's voice wasn't strong. It was shaking. "Yan, I was….oh you little idiot. I'm not unhappy. I've been so….I've been an idiot too."

Ianto shook his head, confused, but finally submitted to the pressure on his arms and turned into Jack's embrace.

"But you've been so different, Jack. Fussing around me and…and…making up packets of pills, for God's sake. That's not you, that's me. And you're not happy. I know you're not. I thought you regretted moving in."

"Not for a second," Jack assured him, laughing softly into his hair. "I've just been worried about you. I love…..being here. With you." And he had an insane urge to open his mouth and have Ianto read the words burned into the tip of it. But he couldn't say it. They didn't do sentiment. And Ianto had just given him a new reason to hold back. He would have let him go, sent him away. So easily. Maybe he didn't feel the same. And he'd never said it, either.

They held each other silently for an endless moment, poised on the edge of a chasm, ready to fall either way. And, being them, they chose to stay balanced on the edge.

"We should get some sleep," Ianto suggested, pulling away gently. It still wasn't sitting right in his mind, but he was too tired to worry about it any more. Jack didn't want to leave. That'd do, for now.

"Yeah, we should," Jack agreed. His eye fell on the packets of pills spread across the counter. "Damn, I forgot the stuff for your allergy."

"It's just about gone, though," Ianto protested, reaching for the packet.

Jack's hand closed over it first. "One more day's worth," he announced. "And don't tell Martha I forgot, OK? She was sure I'd muck up your dosages, or forget something. That's why I did all that stuff with the envelopes."

Ianto chuckled. "You're not scared of Martha, are you?"

"Of course I am. She's terrifying." He slapped Ianto gently on the rump. "Go on, go to bed, I'll bring it in with me. I've got to break the damned things into quarters now. They'll probably shoot across the room and hit you in the eye, or something."

-XXX-

Ianto drifted awake, uneasy dreams floating in his mind. His ribs hurt, probably because there was an arm lying heavily across his waist, but there was also Jack's breath fluttering against the back of his neck. If he wriggled away from the one he'd lose the other as well. He tried to settle himself more comfortably, but the ache from his ribs wouldn't let him go back to sleep, and the dreams were firming into thoughts. His subconscious had worked on his uneasiness and now presented his waking mind with exactly what had prompted the uncertainty. Jack wanted to stay, and that was good. But the dreams replayed every wistful glance at Gwen, and memory supplied Jack asking for her when he woke. It conveniently missed that fact that he'd asked for Ianto first, but memory is a chancy thing. And memory clouded with pain and drugs is worse.

Jealously was such a pointless emotion. Especially when he was almost certain nothing would come of it. Gwen was married. Gwen was committed to Rhys. She'd never actually made an attempt to intrude between Jack and him, thought there had been plenty of times when she could have, and quite successfully too, he suspected. And today she'd left, even though she obviously didn't want to, so that Ianto could be alone with Jack when he revived. He should, Ianto told himself firmly, be grateful to her for that. And he was. But he wished he didn't have to be.

Ianto's twitching finally brought Jack awake, with a huff in his ear accompanied by a sound that roughly translated into 'hold the hell still and let an immortal get the sleep he so richly deserves' but actually sounded like 'Mmmmph?"

"Arm," Ianto explained, pushing at it. "Ribs."

"Sorry." Jack rearranged himself, moving the arm further up and adding a leg to the mix without moving his head. "Morning yet?" Jack's face was pointing towards the alarm clock but he obviously hadn't gotten to the point of opening his eyes.

Ianto angled his head so that he could see the clock. "Not yet," he answered.

"More sleep then," Jack decided. "Make up for what we'll miss tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"New Years Eve," Jack said. "Fireworks. If you still wanna go, that is."

"Yeah, I do," Ianto agreed. Fresh air and no aliens. Normality. Not to be missed. "Rift permitting, of course." And with an impulse that might have been generosity but probably wasn't, he added "We should see if Gwen and Rhys want to come along, too."

"Sounds good." Lips brushed against his jaw. "Sleep now?"

"G'night Jack."

Snoring wasn't everyone's idea of a serenade, but Ianto listened to it contentedly until it lulled him back to sleep.

**The next chapter will return to the usual program of angst and action (Not that sort)...**


	17. New Year part 5

**The angst continues. Action next chapter...(no, still not that sort). Enjoy!**

Ianto rolled onto his back in his sleep, and Jack woke to find he'd rolled with him, his hand still possessively across the younger man's chest. The morning sun sprayed golden light through the windows, gilding Ianto's torso. The sunlight harmonized strangely with the faded yellow bruises. Only the broken ribs still showed the purpling of deeper injury now. The solid weight of fear Jack had carried in his chest since the accident began to lighten, became manageable. He was healing.

Ianto's eyes opened as Jack's hand moved, tracing the pattern of the bruises. He blinked slowly. Sparrows argued from the windowsill.

"Nearly gone," Jack murmured, his voice husky.

Ianto flailed weakly at the hand stroking his chest. "Not awake yet, Jack." His eyes drifted shut again, as if the weight of the lids was still too heavy. "And tell the birds to shut up."

Jack chuckled deep in his throat. His lips joined his hand, making lazy patterns.

"Still not awake."

"I noticed. But I can fix that," Jack answered confidently.

-XXX-

"Need a hand in there?"

Ianto didn't answer immediately, given that he was halfway through brushing his teeth.

A few weeks ago, he reflected, Jack offering help in the bathroom would have….well it wouldn't have meant actually offering to help. At least not with shaving or brushing his teeth or dressing – maybe _un_dressing.

"Ianto? You OK?" The door opened before he could answer. He finished with the teeth and moved on to shaving.

"I'm fine, Jack. It doesn't hurt much when I lift my arms anymore. I'm managing."

"That wasn't what I meant," Jack said, moving slowly into the room.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Ianto's dropped, watching the water swirl through the razor in the basin. A flush rose in his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Jack's arms slid around his waist. "Don't be. Should be me apologizing. You said you were tired. I shouldn't have pushed it.

Ianto's cheeks darkened further. "I'm not much good for anything, am I?"

Jack's chin dropped onto his lovers' shoulder, still watching him in the mirror. "That's crap and you know it."

"I'm next to useless at work. I can hardly do a bloody thing for myself…and I can't do anything for you, either."

Jack huffed out an impatient breath. Ianto in drama queen mode was a new development, and he didn't like it. "You nearly died, Ianto," he said, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Cut yourself some slack."

"More likely cut myself shaving, if you keep hanging off me like that," Ianto answered, instantly ashamed of himself for feeling pleased at the hurt in Jack's eyes. He didn't understand where this vein of nastiness was coming from. It wasn't like him, and Jack didn't deserve it. But the apology died on his lips as Jack slammed the bathroom door behind him.

He cut himself shaving anyway.

Jack watched in sullen silence from the bed as Ianto struggled to dress himself. Of course, he could have waited in any other room, but then he'd miss seeing the pleading glances not-quite thrown his way. At every half-glance, Jack ordered his conscience to shut up and let him finish making his point. Ianto was being childish. He'd thrown Jack's help back in his face one time too many. If that stubborn Welsh pride wouldn't let him ask for the assistance he so obviously needed, he could bloody well do it himself.

The silent battle lasted until Ianto's hands started trembling while he attempted to knot his tie. Jack watched Ianto's arms fall to his side in defeat and told his own wounded pride to go stuff itself.

"Half-Windsor OK?" Jack asked, taking over as if there'd been no intervening power struggle.

"Fine," Ianto answered. "Thanks." At least this time he'd managed to keep the snarky comment behind his teeth, where it belonged. Demanding a full-Windsor would not only be infantile, it would also extend the ordeal that much longer.

Silence ruled through breakfast, broken only by the crunching sounds of cold cereal being shoveled into reluctant mouths. There was no time for a proper breakfast. They were late. Ordinarily they would have picked something better up on the way to the Hub, but the small pile of pills waiting beside Ianto's bowl couldn't be taken on an empty stomach. And Jack's eyes warned him of what awaited if he didn't take them.

"Coffee?" Ianto asked, when he really couldn't take the silence anymore.

"No time," Jack answered. "We'll get one at the Hub, if that's all right."

"If you like."

The stilted politeness was nearly as uncomfortable as the silence. And far more out of character. Smiles twitched at the corners of their mouths. And if the laughter that followed held more awkwardness than amusement, it was still laughter.

"Can we start behaving like adults yet?" Jack asked.

"When did you ever behave like an adult? And why am I sitting on your lap?"

"Because it'd hurt your ribs if I sat on yours," Jack answered.

"Fair enough," Ianto conceded. "But I repeat, when did you ever behave like an adult?"

"Well," Jack drawled. "Since you were inconsiderate enough to fall through a spaceship and smash yourself up?"

"Does that mean you'll go back to normal when I'm better?"

"Possibly," Jack conceded. "Though there's an attraction in having a new way of getting you frazzled."

Ianto rolled his eyes.

Jack drove them to work. That had changed, too. He kept to the speed limit now and took the corners more gently, conscious of the seatbelt pressing across damaged ribs.

"You've got your checkup with Martha today," he said, mentally slapping himself across the head. He knew Ianto hadn't forgotten, and it was just this sort of thing that set him on edge.

Ianto only nodded, actually biting his tongue until he'd gotten the snippy response under control. "Video conference from the medical bay," he agreed instead, just to prove he'd remembered. "And no, I don't need you to sit in." And he didn't. Ianto planned to convince Martha to relax most, if not all, of the restrictions on his activity. He knew Jack would fight it all the way, and he just didn't have the energy for another battle. Especially when he already knew he'd lose.

Jack bit back a retort. Ianto had a right to privacy, but still…

"Don't do that face, Jack. It's just a check up, and I know you'll talk to her afterwards, anyway."

Which was true. But it was just another rejection piled on top of the rest. Scenes from the last twenty-four hours replayed in Jack's mind. First he wanted to leave me at the Hub, Jack thought, then he all but told me to move out and if he could've gotten along without my help this morning, he would have. And though Jack knew it was unfair to expect much in the way of physical intimacy while Ianto was still in pain, that rejection rankled too.

Fear of loss wasn't the only reason he'd fought falling in love. Fear of rejection ran a close second. _You're wrong, Jack _sat right up there with _I'm sorry there was nothing we could do._

And Jack had always been the sort to jump before being thrown overboard.

"If you keep pushing me away, Ianto, I'll go."

Three streets of silence. "Your choice," Ianto said, the bland tone completely ruined by the quiver in this voice.

"It's not, actually." Jack hadn't paid this much attention to the traffic in all the time Ianto had known him.

The SUV pulled into the carpark with a totally unnecessary screech. Jack leaned across and released Ianto's seat belt, knowing that twisting around to do that himself was still uncomfortable.

Ianto's hand covered his before he could draw it away.

"Would 'sorry' help at this point?"

"Actions speak louder than words, and all that."

They really were late. Gwen was already at the Hub. She burst out of the tourism office and flung herself into Jack's arms. Ianto found a smile for his face and reminded himself it was the first time Gwen had seen Jack since he'd died so dramatically. Of course she was relieved. Of course Jack was glad to see her. They were friends.

As he returned Gwen's hug, Jack looked happy for the first time since he'd come back to life. That was a good thing.

Wasn't it?

**I thought Jack deserved a chance to be an idiot too. **


	18. New Year part 6

**Here comes the fluff...**

Gwen looked in confusion from one man to the other, wondering how they could have gotten from the epitome of couple-ness yesterday to the current frosty distance. And their efforts to pretend nothing was wrong were only making it worse. Trying not to bring it into work, bless them. And failing miserably.

"Looks like they're setting up for the fireworks out there," Gwen said. She'd been watching for their arrival on the CCTV and the display was still up, now showing teams of workman preparing the pyrotechnics and what-have-you. "Apparently there's going to be musical accompaniment as well. How do you suppose they get the fireworks to go off in time to music?" She was babbling and she knew it, but silence had fallen again and she felt a desperate need to fill it. Oh, the looks on their faces – she'd seen those expressions before. On Rhys' face, on her own face in the mirror, after a particularly bad argument.

"Yeah, the display's tonight, isn't it?" Ianto agreed, casting a hopeful glance at Jack. Which Jack missed because he was staring intently at Myfanwy. Not that the pterodactyl was anywhere in sight, but what else could he be looking for staring straight up like that?

Gwen decided an elbow in the boss's ribs probably wasn't a good idea.

"We were going to check it out," Jack said, after which he finally looked at Ianto, who'd become fascinated with the top of his shoe. "Um…aren't we?"

Ianto shrugged, still looking down. "If you still want to."

Gwen fought the impulse to bang their heads together. It would be much more satisfying to slap them around individually, anyway. Ianto first, she decided. Then maybe he could sort Jack out so she wouldn't have to.

"Let's go set up the med bay, Ianto," she suggested.

-XXX-

"Right, that's the video feed connected," Gwen said, crawling out from under the desk. "Have you hooked the scanner in?"

Ianto nodded. "Yeah, it's fine. Thanks for your help."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Gwen asked, eyebrows quirking.

Ianto gave her the innocent look she used to trust, before she got to know him better. "Nothing's wrong, Gwen."

"You can tell me it's none of my business," Gwen offered. "But the silence is breaking my eardrums."

Ianto sagged into his chair. "I guess we make it your business if we bring it into work, right?"

It _was_ unfair to Gwen. But what could he tell her? _We're having problems, Gwen, because I've just realized the man I'm living with would rather be with you? _Or how about _I'm having trouble accepting that Jack only settled for me because you got married? _There just wasn't any way of explaining it that didn't sound accusing. But he had to say something.

"He's not been the same since…"

"Since he thought you'd died?" Gwen finished. "Yeah, I noticed actually. The fussing and the 'have you taken your meds' and 'are you warm enough' and 'don't overdo it' when you're perfectly capable of judging all that for yourself?"

Ianto blinked. "You noticed, huh?"

Gwen snorted. "Thirty minutes in the SUV yesterday, Ianto, on the way to find the Tsaurians. Thirty minutes of Jack fretting over how you were bound to be exhausting yourself without him there to watch you. Nice in small doses I suppose, but if Rhys did that I'd dong him one with a pillow."

Ianto couldn't help smiling. "I did," he admitted. "A couple of times."

He liked Gwen when she was annoyed enough to be blunt, even though it was mostly him who bore the brunt of her bad moods. Or Rhys, he supposed. She saved the sweetness and light for Jack. And that was yet another unfair thought. She was trying to help. Or was she just being…..no stop it.

"Ianto?" Gwen's voice broke into his musings. "I just wanted to say, well, the way you looked when you were sitting with Jack yesterday…"

A flush darkened Ianto's cheeks. He'd looked like a besotted idiot and he was embarrassed she'd seen him that way. That was why he'd been so desperate for her to go. Apart from not wanting to share Jack with her. Selfish and unreasonable.

"Jack looked exactly like the same while he was waiting for you to wake up on Christmas Eve," Gwen finished. "Remember that, OK?"

Gwen remembered that night very clearly.

It was the night her final illusions shattered.

It was the night she looked back with fresh eyes at every flirty glance and innuendo Jack had ever cast her way.

It was the night she realized that nearly every one of those incidents reflected a time when Jack felt insecure about Ianto.

It was the night Gwen accepted that the flirting between Jack and herself wasn't so much a secret passion as a mutual ego-boost.

Prior to that night, Gwen assumed Jack felt the same way about Ianto as she'd felt about Owen. Someone you cared about, certainly, someone you could escape with, lose yourself with – and go back to the real world the next day. Now she realized Ianto _was _Jack's real world, as Rhys was Gwen's.

And the way they were both behaving today was threatening their world. She'd tried to help. Maybe she _had _helped. Gwen sighed and busied herself packing away spare cables as Ianto vanished up the staircase without another word. On the other hand, maybe she'd made it worse. But when she peeked back into the main Hub, Ianto passed her with Jack's coffee mug in his hand. Gwen smiled to herself. It was a start.

-XXX-

Jack was hiding in his office. At his desk, a pile of paperwork in front of him, pen in hand, but hiding, all the same. Remembering another reason he'd avoided doing the commitment thing for so long. He was really _really_ quite woefully _bad _at it.

_Push me away and I'll go._ Had he actually said something that melodramatic? When he had absolutely no intention of doing it anyway? Jack stabbed his pen through a perfectly inoffensive report that Gwen had probably spent most of the week writing and wondered if it was childish how much better it made him feel. Probably. He stabbed it again. And again. Maybe the Prime Minister's office would ring. Someone he could yell at, that'd be good. Except Ianto would have to smooth it over and Jack would have to apologise for that as well.

The scent of coffee wafted from the doorway. Industrial strength coffee. Jack had a smile on his face before he'd even looked up.

"Come in Ianto."

Ianto deposited Jack's mug on the desk. "Martha's due to call in five minutes. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't suffer caffeine withdrawal while I was busy."

Jack's smile broadened. "Thanks, Ianto."

"Or you could bring it into the med bay if you want."

Jack regarded him warily. "I could, could I?"

Why, Ianto thought impatiently, does he always shred an olive branch to splinters before he accepts it?

"Five minutes," Ianto repeated. "You're welcome to sit in if you want to."

It was the perfect cue for a grand sweeping exit, which would have worked much better if he had a long coat instead of a suit jacket. Suit jackets didn't sweep.

"Of course I want to," Jack grumbled. "You're my…"

Ianto froze mid-sweep, heart thudding. "I'm your what, exactly?" he prompted, keeping his tone light.

"I don't bloody know," Jack grumbled, finally letting some of his frustration out.

"Makes two of us," Ianto agreed. The words hung between them as solidly as if they'd been painted on the air. Ianto suddenly understood what Gwen meant about silence being painful.

"You're my…._freaking labels_…."

Ianto looked longingly at Jack's coffee. His throat was dry and Jack wasn't drinking it after all.

"You're my..." Jack took a gulp of the coffee and tried again. "Just…..mine?"

This really wouldn't be a good time to ask Jack if he had to share him with Gwen, would it?

"Ianto?" Gwen's voice called. "Martha's on line."

"On my way," Ianto called back. He looked back at Jack, hoping the smile on his face didn't look as dopey as it felt. "If you really are scared of Martha, best we don't keep her waiting." He extended a hand that wasn't really trembling. Well, not very much. Especially not after Jack took it.

They were distracted on the way to the med bay by a burst of noise from the CCTV feed.

Jack chuckled. "They've let a load of fireworks off already. In the daylight."

"Expensive mistake," Ianto agreed. "Someone'll be in trouble for that."

"We've got a bit of Rift activity," Gwen called from another monitor.

"How serious?" Jack asked, mentally reciting his entire vocabulary of profanities. He didn't want to leave Ianto now.

"Tiny spikes. Close proximity. Do you want me to check it out?"

"Just monitor it. Let me know if anything changes. We'll be in the med bay."

Gwen carefully didn't watch them, at least not so they'd notice. If Ianto knew she'd seen them holding hands he'd be mortified. But the world seemed to be moving in the right direction again. For the moment.

"By the way," Jack said, in a voice that was obviously trying to be casual, "Have you asked Gwen to come with us yet? Tonight, I mean."

"Not yet." Ianto was quite proud of getting the answer out around the lump in his throat. It occurred to him they shouldn't really be holding hands at work. Or anywhere. They didn't do sentiment.

He told himself firmly that he had no right to be annoyed. It was his idea to invite Gwen, after all. It didn't really matter that she was probably, no definitely, going to be Jack's first New Year's Eve kiss. What did a kiss matter? Jack would go home with him afterwards. Could he be content with that? Did he have a choice?

"Then don't." Jack's hand tightened on his. "Don't ask her."

"You don't want to go, huh?" Ianto swallowed down his disappointment. It was silly how much he'd been looking forward to getting out, doing something normal for a change. He'd been stuck inside the flat or the Hub pretty much the whole time since Christmas. And he'd effectively missed Christmas this year.

"No, I do," Jack said, somewhat awkwardly. "But….Just you and me."

Ianto smiled. "Sounds nice," he agreed. What more could he ask for, really? Jack couldn't help how he felt about Gwen. And it couldn't be easy for him to turn down a chance to spend time with her. He was trying so hard.

It just would have been so much better if he didn't _have_ to try.

-XXX-

"Move it a bit to the right, Jack," Martha requested.

Jack moved the scanner across Ianto's ribs as directed, brushing his fingers across the skin beneath. A wicked grin spread across his face as Ianto twitched beneath the feather-light touch.

"Ianto," Martha said patiently. "Please try to hold still."

"He's tickling me," Ianto protested, glaring at Jack. Still the wicked grin.

Martha sighed. "Stop it Jack. Now his back please."

"My pleasure," Jack agreed.

"And no tickling," Martha ordered.

Jack sighed. "You're ruining all my fun, Martha."

"How is he?" Jack asked, after all of thirty seconds silence.

Martha looked up. "Patience, Jack. I'm collating."

"Jack?" Gwen's head popped over the railing.

Jack looked up.

"Those spikes? Accompanied by erratic life signs now. Something on the other side that hasn't come through yet, I think. Shall I check it out now?"

Don't bring it into work, Ianto reminded himself. He touched Jack's arm. "Go with her, Jack."

"Martha?"

"He'll be fine, Jack. He _is _fine. Go do your thing. Hang on, I'm sending you another prescription, get it filled while you're out. Toss out all the rest, he won't need them anymore."

The printer whirred. Jack snatched it before Ianto reached for it, kissed him before he could dodge and raced up the stairs.

On the screen, Martha was laughing. "Better you than me, Ianto."

Ianto smiled. "He has his moments. What's the verdict?"

Martha smiled back at him. "All good. Everything's healing nicely. That prescription Jack ran off with is for painkillers, but only to be taken if you need them from now on."

"Brilliant. Duty list?"

"No heavy lifting until the ribs heal. Other than that, do your usual stuff, as long as you stop if you're tired." She raised a hand before he could protest. "Rift permitting, I know. And I still want weekly checkups."

"OK. But um, could you tell Jack that? He's been a bit.."

"Overprotective?" Martha cut in, with an eye roll Ianto couldn't have bettered himself. "Smothering?" she continued. "Tell me about it. He's been on the phone to me at least twice a day." She shook her head. "I honestly don't know how you've put up with it."

Ianto shrugged back into his shirt. "Badly," he answered. "We've spent most of the week arguing."

Martha smiled. "Only to be expected," she said soothingly. If she was in the room, she'd be patting his back. Which might have been nice, actually.

"But it's your last day on the steroids," Martha added, "So your mood should improve in a day or so."

Ianto froze, shirt half-buttoned. "On what?"

"Steroids," Martha repeated. "For that rash."

"I didn't…I didn't know I was on steroids."

At that moment, Ianto understood why Jack claimed to be scared of Martha. It was something about her face. The way her eyes blazed, perhaps. He was quite glad she was three hours away. Even if he'd missed out on the back-patting.

"He didn't tell you?" Martha demanded, moving closer to the screen. Ianto reflexively moved back. Jack was right, she wasn't just scary; she was terrifying.

But it was all making sense now. Steroids. The moodiness, the bad temper, the snapping…and he'd been drinking coffee as well. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"I _will_ kill him," Martha announced. "Possibly twice."

"There'll be a line," Ianto assured her. His head dropped into his hands.

"Ianto? What happened?"

"I might have suggested he move out," Ianto admitted.

"Ianto?"

Ianto raised his head. "Yes, Martha?"

"Why are you still there?"

Ianto considered it. Gwen did mention the spikes were close by. "Do I have my physician's permission to run across the Plass after him?"

"I think that would be the perfect form of light exercise. Haven't you left yet?"

She didn't get an answer. Because he had.

He could see them, halfway along the pier, watching golden sparks flying across the Bay that might have looked like fireworks through the CCTV, but quite obviously weren't. They were openings in the Rift. Dozens of them. Life signs, Gwen said. Erratic life signs. Whatever was on the other side of those openings was fighting getting pulled through. Or waiting for something.

"Jack," Ianto yelled, as soon as he was within earshot. Odd, from this angle he could swear those openings were converging on the pier.

Jack looked around, a smile breaking across his face. He nudged Gwen with an elbow.

They were both smiling as the openings converged on them and pulled them through.

_I couldn't let them **stay** happy, could I? Where's the fun in that? Don't hate me!_


	19. New Year part 7

**This chapter takes place just before the end of the last one...So Jack & Gwen haven't vanished yet (but they will soon of course.) **

Gwen used to have a dog. A big bouncy one. Walking beside Jack just at the moment reminded her of that. He was bouncing. From happiness or tension, she wasn't quite sure.

"Everything OK, Jack?" she asked carefully.

"It might be," Jack answered, smiling the smile that warmed her from the inside out, even though it shouldn't. "It just might be. Then again it might not. Time will tell. Now where are those spikes coming from?"

"Over the bay," Gwen answered, looking down at her PDA, "just over – damn, they've gone."

They both halted in their tracks, scanning the horizon.

"Jack?" Gwen said uneasily.

"Yeah?"

"Didn't you say you saw fireworks on the CCTV?"

"I did," Jack confirmed. "Ianto saw them too."

Gwen jerked her chin towards the bay. "No-one out there. All the workmen are loading the boats, see?"

"Not fireworks then," Jack concluded.

They waited. "No life forms registering out there either. Apart from fish."

Jack sighed. He'd walked out on Ianto's check up for this. "Shall we head back then?" he suggested.

"Sure," Gwen agreed. "Did I hear Martha telling you to get something while you were out?"

"Yep." Jack fished around in the pocket of his coat, emerging with a well-stuffed envelope. "It's in here somewhere," he announced, pulling out prescriptions one by one, handing each to Gwen with a muttered "Not that one."

Gwen accepted the growing pile patiently, scanning them briefly.

"Oh I know these," Gwen commented with a laugh. "A friend of mine was on them for a while. Her husband was climbing the walls by the end."

"This one," Jack said triumphantly. "Sorry, what?"

Gwen waved the prescription at him, a smile crinkling her face. "Don't tell me how you've been coping. I don't want to know."

Jack frowned. "Well, I've been worried about him of course, but from what Martha said, he's doing well….What?" Because Gwen's hand was over her mouth, trying to stifle giggles.

"I meant," she said, between gulps, "the lack of….you know…" She collapsed against a handy wall and gave up the attempt to hold the laughter back. "No wonder you've been in such a strange mood," she gasped. "I mean, continence isn't exactly your forte, is it?"

Jack's frown deepened. He snatched the prescription back, and took both it and the new one into the pharmacy.

Gwen burst out laughing again at the expression on his face when he came out. "Pharmacist explained it, huh?"

"It's not funny Gwen," Jack answered huffily. "I thought I'd lost it. And he thought _he'd _lost it."

Gwen sobered abruptly. Her eyes flashed. "Was that what today was about? You've been at each other's throats just 'cause he didn't want to be at _your_ throat. God, Jack, please tell me you aren't that shallow."

"Of course I'm not," Jack answered, but even to his own ears his voice lacked conviction. Memories stabbed him with shards of ice. Ianto's eyes dropping from his, not even able to meet his eyes in the mirror. Ianto apologizing for not being able to give what Jack should have known better than to ask for. He remembered himself, slamming out right afterwards in a fit of wounded pride, when anyone with half a brain for 'couple stuff' would have been asking forgiveness himself.

Gwen saw the pain in Jack's eyes and felt guilt flood through her. She'd done it again, what Rhys generously described as her heart coming out through her mouth. Dear sweet Rhys, who'd only once went on to say that she should filter it through her brain first.

She touched Jack's arm gently. "I'm sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have said that." It was an unfair accusation – at least as far as Jack's feelings for Ianto went. Her own hurt pride coming out, because even though she didn't want Jack for herself, it still hurt to have the dream shattered.

After all, Catwoman didn't really want Batman either, but she wouldn't have been too happy to find him shacked up with Robin. And she really shouldn't be thinking Rhys would make the perfect Joker. Or maybe the Penguin, with that cute face. And penguins looked so cuddly. And oh yes, she was supposed to be listening to Jack right now. She'd just upset him after all.

Jack crumpled the old prescription fiercely in his fist. "That crap he's been on – because of the rash that cream you gave him caused, by the way."

"I assumed you'd know whether he was allergic," Gwen retorted. She'd been trying to help, after all.

"Whatever," Jack said with a grand gesture of indifference. Because she was right, of course. He'd just seized on the opportunity to rub cream all over Ianto without considering the consequences first.

Gwen ducked out of the way of the sweeping arm gesture and reminded herself to listen patiently. She owed him for all the times she'd ranted on about Rhys.

"It made him moody as well," Jack continued. "And I didn't understand why, because I didn't take the time to read up about the stuff I was shoving down his throat. Yeah, my fault, I know. So it got to the point where last night he says I could leave and this morning I told him I might, and there we are. Or aren't. And he'd kill me for telling you this." He lobbed the crumpled paper into the nearest bin.

"Agreed," Gwen said, when it appeared he'd finally stopped. "You should be talking to him, not me. Let's go back."

Jack waved vaguely towards the pharmacy. "Gotta wait for the prescription."

Gwen smiled. He really was flustered. It was kind of sweet. "I'll wait. You go."

He gave her that smile again, the once that made the sun rise at midnight. But he hadn't gotten far before the PDA flared, just as golden orbs danced again across the Bay.

Jack turned back. "I swear the Rift does this just to annoy me," he grumbled. "Come on, let's get it sorted."

The erratic life signs were just beginning to register once more when they heard Ianto calling. Gwen didn't need the elbow in her ribs. She knew who it was just from the expression on Jack's face.

His smiled blurred as the light sucked him up and swirled him away. But Gwen didn't see it because the light swallowed her too.

-XXX-

If anyone had done an MRI on Ianto right at that moment, he suspected his brain patterns would consist of the word SHIT. In calligraphy.

He'd have to tell Rhys he'd lost Gwen. No bloody way. OK, then, he'd have to get them back. He'd have to get Gwen back. And Jack. Jack and Gwen lost in the rift. Together. Pig's arse, he wasn't having that. Jack was his. Or he was Jack's. Or both. He'd said so.

He _was_ going to get them back. He was going to get Jack back, and when he did, Ianto was going to _kill _him for letting the Rift take him. Slowly. Very, very slowly.

It'd help if running across the Plass hadn't stirred up his ribs. They hurt. When he got Jack back he could feed him all the painkillers he wanted. Ianto was never going to complain about Jack again. Well, not much. OK, a lot, no point making promises he wouldn't keep.

Ianto leaned against a convenient wall and tried to get his breath back. A glass wall. With someone calling him from the other side of it.

"Mr. Jones? Oh it _is_ you. Your prescription's ready."

Oh holy bloody hell. Jack was out on a mission with Gwen and he'd taken the time to get Ianto's painkillers organized. Maybe he wouldn't kill him after all. Or at the very least he'd kiss him first. Several times.

But he'd have to get him back, first. Them. Both of them.

He'd need reinforcements. He'd need equipment. He'd need….

He'd need to start thinking again, instead of wandering around the Plass like Lady Macbeth. Back to the Hub.

It was ridiculous. He'd been alone in the Hub countless times before. No reason to start feeling lonely all of a sudden. Get a grip, Jones.

Coffee. He needed coffee. Bugger the steroids; he was nearly off them anyway and they'd already done their worst. Besides, a bit of aggression would probably come in useful right about now.

Coffee and a plan. Find them, get them back. Good plan, if somewhat sparse on the details right now. Ianto sat in front of the Rift monitor and yearned for just a fraction of Tosh's expertise with the program. He had to find out where they'd been taken. Those openings must have a source, right? And if he could find the source he could find them. Because he wasn't waiting until the Rift spat them back out.

Gwen and Jack were _not _going to end up in Flat Holme.

-XXX-

Ianto knew his own limitations. The idea of pulling off a single-handed rescue was attractive but impractical. He couldn't do this alone. He didn't know the Rift program well enough to track the openings back to their source and he wasn't physically strong enough to mount a rescue by himself. Not yet, anyway.

So he needed help. Reinforcements. Call in the cavalry. This would be the perfect time for the Doctor to turn up, which meant he wouldn't. The Doctor had been here a week ago and he was off to Mars for a holiday. Fifty years in the future.

Who else? Martha? No, Martha worked for Unit. He couldn't risk Unit finding out that Torchwood Three now consisted of one damaged Ianto Jones, sundry Weevils and a pterodactyl. Pteranodon. Whatever. Myfanwy didn't like labels either, so it didn't matter.

So, Jones, who ya gonna call? Jack's voice floated through his mind. _Mickey Smith, independent, we can get him for the spikes. _He'd thought at the time it was just one of Jack's excuses to keep Ianto stuck at home or in the Hub but it was worth checking. And the very name gave Ianto the first surge of real hope he'd had since seeing the rest of Torchwood vanish in a golden glow. Mickey was an accomplished hacker. He'd find his way around the Rift manipulator. And Mickey had lived in a parallel universe – he knew how to move between worlds. Wherever Gwen and Jack were, Mickey could help Ianto find them. If Ianto could find Mickey. Which would involve deciphering Jack's filing system, a prospect more daunting than a barrelful of weevils.

Ianto moved wearily into Jack's office and began searching through his desk. Jack never used the on-line address book. For a man from the future, he had a peculiar addiction to paper and pens. There it was, a faded leather volume with business cards poking from the pages.

Ianto's hands shook as he turned to 'S'. Sarah Jane Smith, but no Mickey. Hang on, this was Jack. Ianto flipped to 'M'. Still nothing. He tried 'D' for 'Doctor's companions.' He even tried 'I', on the basis that Jack's favorite nickname for Mickey was 'Mickey the Idiot.' And when even that desperate measure failed, Ianto finally gave in to his frustration. He turned the stupid book upside down and shook it. Business cards rained onto the desk and spread out onto the floor. Typical, Jack hadn't even bothered to fasten the damned things in.

Ianto let his head sink onto the scattered pile of cards and pounded the desk with his fists. Bloody hell, Jack, he thought, in something that was too close to a prayer to ever admit. Come back. You've come back from the end of the universe, come back from this. Come back to me. You can drool over Gwen as much as you want, and I won't say a word. Just. Come. Back.

Bloody useless Teaboy, that's all he was. Couldn't even find a stupid phone number. And giving into despair was every bit as useless as flinging the damned cards everywhere. It helped though, he had to admit.

After a timeless interlude, Ianto's sense of humor began the task of dragging him out of the abyss, as it reminded him this wasn't the first time he'd flung things off Jack's desk. Wasn't the first time his ribs had ached from contact with the desk either, even if they hadn't been broken before. He looked around with a slightly manic grin at the chaos he'd created, completely without Jack's assistance this time. Time to start fixing the mess.

He'd need more coffee, first. And painkillers. Fifteen minutes later, the ache in his ribs had dulled to a grumble. The business cards were in two neat piles on the desk. Ianto Jones had brought order to this small piece of chaos and he was himself again. And he'd found the right card, even if he'd never know what letter Jack had filed it under. Mickey Smith was on his way to Cardiff.

**Thanks for reading. Hope it was fun.**


	20. New Year part 8

**Apologies for how long this has taken. This chapter just wouldn't co-operate! But here it is, finally, with Mickey in the Hub and Jack in Gwen's lap...**

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On meeting Mickey, Ianto understood why Jack had a love/hate relationship with the young man. Jack quite possibly resented the competition. Mickey's presence filled the room every bit as much as Jack's did. In a different way, of course. Mickey didn't really do anything to draw attention to himself, but you noticed him anyway. Must drive Jack insane.

The cog door rolled back. Ianto paused to allow Mickey to take in the cavernous workplace, somewhat surprised when the other man moved ahead without pausing.

Mickey looked back at him, white teeth flashing. "I used to work for Torchwood, did you know?"

Ianto shook his head, trying not to show his intense curiosity. Mickey surely wasn't that much older than Ianto himself, so he didn't see how it was possible.

"In that parallel universe," Mickey clarified. "With Rose." His smile dimmed.

Ianto had always thought of Rose, if he thought of her at all, as the somewhat inconsiderate person who'd inadvertently cursed Jack with immortality. But now he remembered she was also the person who'd left Mickey for the Doctor. Ianto knew how_ that_ felt. And it still hurt, even though Jack had come back and chosen Ianto – well, Torchwood at least – over the Doctor. It must be so much worse for Mickey. Rose had stayed with the Doctor, preferring even an imperfect copy over her human boyfriend.

"She's still there, isn't she?" Ianto asked, to spare Mickey further explanations.

"Yep." Mickey wandered over to the Rift monitor.

"Have a seat," Ianto invited, trying not to mind, not to let it hurt, seeing someone taking Tosh's place.

Mickey looked up at him, eyes distant. "This was my desk," he noted. "In _my_ Hub." Tosh's desk. The technical expert's desk. Made sense.

Mickey shook himself, not unlike a dog coming out of the ocean. Shaking himself back into the present, back into this universe. "So where's Captain Cheesecake zipped off to this time?"

"Cheesecake?" Ianto repeated.

"Well, he's bloody cheesy, isn't he?" Mickey retorted.d

"Only when he doesn't mean it," Ianto answered, blaming the steroids for the bitterness in his voice.

-XXX-

Consciousness returned slowly. At first, Gwen was simply thankful to be alive. Then she was grateful she wasn't alone. She didn't know whether her frantic grab for Jack's hand as the light enfolded them was the reason they were still together, and she didn't care. She wasn't alone.

Simple gratitude soon gave way to something darker. They'd been taken by the Rift. Fear choked her as she remembered Flat Holme. But no, she wouldn't end up like that. Jack was with her. Jack would save her. Jack would get her home. As soon as he came back to life. Gwen touched his hand, his face. Pale and cold, not the slightest flicker of movement. A while then, before he came back.

Gwen sat back and considered the room they were in. A cell, she decided, though a relatively comfortable one. No furniture, but they'd both been placed on something soft. It didn't feel thick enough to be a mattress, but it appeared to serve the same purpose. Certainly whatever it was softened the impact of the hard floor beneath. High above, a barred window, letting in light. She could probably reach it standing on Jack's shoulders.

There was even a hole in the floor that she suspected she knew the reason for, given a certain pressure in her abdomen. The idea of attending to _that_ after Jack revived didn't bear considering, so Gwen shuffled across with a sigh and got it over with. The provision of the facility was comforting. Whoever was holding them at least planned to treat them humanely, if that word even had relevance. Gwen returned to her position next to Jack and waited. Nothing else to do.

As she waited, Gwen wondered why the passage through the Rift had killed Jack while merely rendering her unconscious. Had he shielded her, in some way? Or did his peculiar physiology make him more sensitive to it? Gwen shook her head. Just another mystery, just another question that would never be answered. She wondered how Ianto coped with the fact that he'd never really know Jack, and concluded that he probably didn't. His frequent private conversations with Tosh took on a new meaning, and explained why Ianto argued with Jack more often lately. He'd lost his safety net.

Jack's body twitched. Gwen gathered him into her arms, trying to remember what Ianto did to ease Jack's passage into life. Mostly it seemed as though he simply held him, stopped him from hurting himself as his limbs flailed uncontrollably. OK, she was strong enough to do that. She'd seen Ianto whisper into Jack's ear, too, those times when Jack's eyes took longer to focus. So maybe she'd talk to him as well. Not the kissing though, regardless of how much the secret part of her whispered it was the perfect opportunity to indulge. No. It wouldn't be a good idea at all. Not if they were going back home.

But what if they couldn't get back?

-XXX-

"They weren't natural," Mickey concluded, leaning back from the screen, stretching and taking a mouthful of coffee somehow all in the same movement, and without spilling anything or falling over, too. "God, this coffee's amazing."

"Thank you, and how not natural?"

Fingers beat a tattoo against the side of the cup. "I'm not real good at explaining," he admitted.

"Try?" Ianto suggested.

"The Rift's natural, right? Weird, but natural."

Ianto nodded.

Mickey jabbed a finger at the screen. "Those – portals? – yeah that'll do. Those portals were generated. Different signature from the natural rift. Not random enough to be natural. More like the ones we used to make."

Ianto goggled silently. And he hoped invisibly as well. Mickey used to make Rift openings. And Jack was letting him run around as an independent? Maybe Jack was getting soft.

Hang on. Mickey could _make Rift openings. _Ianto's hand closed on the other man's shoulder. "Can you still make them?" So much for voice control. He was pretty sure it'd just gone up an octave.

Mickey twitched his shoulder. "Bit of a firm grip there."

"Sorry," Ianto removed the hand and only just stopped himself from an apologetic massage. No call for getting all touchy-feely. Jack's influence, that. And bouncing on his toes was a bit extreme, too, even if he did feel like one of those dogs behind their little white fences, trying to get a look at the world beyond.

"I can't make them myself," Mickey answered. Ianto's heart took up residence in his ankles again and he didn't feel like bouncing anymore. Mickey pushed his chair back and spun to face him, teeth impossibly bright as he grinned. "But I've got some old ones in the van. Mostly fried or broken, but I couldn't just chuck 'em, somehow. Can't travel between universes anymore, the walls are all shut tight. But I reckon they'd do a shift between worlds, if I could get them working." He smiled that infectious smile again, and Ianto felt his own lips curving in response. "Always wanted an excuse to try. Shouldn't be too difficult to program them to match the signature."

That sounded more promising. "Then we follow them through?" Ianto guessed.

Mickey arched an eyebrow. Ianto wasn't impressed. He could do that himself.

"We?" Mickey said pointedly. "I thought you're supposed to take it easy."

"Martha cleared me for field work this morning," Ianto said firmly. Which she had, kind of.

Mickey waved a hand. "I wouldn't dream of arguing with Martha," he agreed. "She's cool, she is. And hot."

"And engaged," Ianto pointed out. "And who told you I was injured?"

"Jack." Mickey admitted. "He called me last week to see if I could fill in until you were recovered. But I had a job for Unit. Only finished yesterday."

Ianto muttered something under his breath. Jack hadn't even mentioned Mickey until last night.

Mickey regarded him with good humor. "Jack told me other stuff about you, too."

Ianto hoped the cringe wasn't visible. "Do I want to know?"

"Mate, half of it _I_ didn't want to know."

Ianto cleared his throat. "In your van, you said."

"In my van," Mickey agreed.

They brought back half a dozen round white discs with domed yellow centres. "This was mine," Mickey announced, showing Ianto one with scorch marks across the face. "It got burnt out after that last time with the Daleks."

Ianto looked at the remaining pile. "Where did all the rest come from?" he asked curiously.

"Jack's been sending them to me whenever they dropped through the Rift," Mickey explained. "I wanted to get mine fixed, just in case. Or maybe out of sentiment. Never got around to trying. But I guess I've got a good enough excuse now, huh?"

Ianto watched intently as Mickey frowned his way through the pile, finally separating two units that looked relatively undamaged.

"These cases should be OK," he announced, prying the first one open. "We'll need to replace some parts, though."

Ianto helped with the delicate task of disassembling the rest while Mickey picked at the components. Eventually two complete units sat on the desk in front of them, alongside a pile of discarded circuitry.

"Bit of luck," Mickey said, a smile spreading across his face. "I thought we'd be pushing to get two, but I reckon we'd get another out of that lot, if we had the time."

They shared a tentative smile of victory, which somehow morphed into a hug. "Don't tell Jack I did that," Mickey warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ianto assured him. Not that Jack would be jealous – Jealousy was on the long list of emotions he didn't 'Do'. But he'd probably start talking about threesomes.

"Right," Mickey said decisively, turning back to the units. "I'll reprogram them."

Ianto hovered, wondering if there was anything else he could do to help.

"I've finished that coffee," Mickey added hopefully.

Ianto sighed. Some things never changed.

-XXX-

Jack convulsed in Gwen's arms. She knew she wasn't imagining the flicker of disappointment in his eyes as they opened. He'd expected Ianto to be holding him. Gwen's heart sank just the slightest bit, and she spoke firmly to herself until Jack's eyes focused properly.

Jack rested in her arms for a few minutes, fuelling thoughts Gwen shouldn't be having. Eventually he pushed himself up, smiled his thanks, and examined the room they were in. "Not exactly a warm welcome," he noted cheerfully.

"Relatively comfortable though," Gwen commented, feeling quite pleased at how steady her voice sounded. "Not trying to break us."

Jack nodded, catching his lower lip between his teeth. "Or," he concluded, watching her intently. "They aren't planning on keeping us long enough to make breaking us worthwhile."

Gwen swallowed. "No point dwelling on that, though, is there?"

Jack took her hands in his and squeezed them. "Just wanted to make sure you'd thought about it. If I have to get rough breaking us out…."

Gwen felt a flush rise in her cheeks. "Keep my bleeding heart in check?" she offered.

Jack grinned his trademark grin. "Something like that."

Gwen reached under her jacket. "My gun's gone," she announced in frustration.

"Only to be expected," Jack answered dismissively. "Haven't you got anything concealed?"

"I was a policewoman, Jack, not a secret agent," Gwen answered. His eyes twinkled at her. "I suppose you _have_?"

"Of course," Jack greed. His grin turned wicked. "You might not want to watch me retrieve it."

Gwen raised her eyebrows, refusing to blush. "Don't know about that. I might learn a thing or two."

The grin was lecherous now. "So you might. Ianto said it was an education. After he got his mouth closed, that is."

Gwen's face flamed, and she turned her back on him fast enough to trigger a wave of dizziness.

Behind her, the sound of Jack's laughter. And she closed her ears against what might possibly have been a grunt. However dangerous this gets, Gwen vowed to herself, I'm _not_ touching his weapon.

-XXX-

"You wear 'em like this," Mickey demonstrated. "And activate them like this." Carefully not demonstrating that part. "They take twenty minutes to recharge."

"So we'll be stuck there for twenty minutes?"

"Yep," Mickey answered cheerfully. "Enough time to say hello to the locals, have a look around…"

"Get shot at or blown up a few times," Ianto added gloomily. He had no right to expose Mickey to this sort of danger. He straightened, telling himself quite firmly that it wasn't his ribs giving that twinge. Been leaning over the desk too long, that's all.

"I'll go alone." Take some painkillers first, he reminded himself.

But he'd finally met someone his equal for stubbornness. Mickey punched his shoulder. "Don't be daft."

"Those portals were generated intentionally," Ianto argued. "Hell of a lot of trouble just to take a look at Earth. Someone came after them on purpose, didn't they? Them, specifically."

Mickey shifted uneasily. "I'd say so."

"And whoever – whatever – snatched Jack and Gwen isn't going to just let us walk away with them. They're Torchwood, Mickey. They're my responsibility, not yours."

"You can't do it alone," Mickey insisted. "The modules can't carry more than two. You'd only be able to get one out at a time. Safer if I come too."

"So I take both modules," Ianto argued. He felt quite pleased with himself for thinking of that. But Mickey wasn't giving up.

"Torchwood's paying me to help," Mickey pointed out.

Ianto raised the transfer device. "You _have _helped. I wouldn't have a shot without this."

Mickey's mouth closed in a stubborn line. Finally he sighed.

"Don't you ever tell Jack this," he warned. "He'd never let me live it down."

He actually looked embarrassed. Ianto waited expectantly.

Mickey continued. "I_ like_ Captain Cheesecake. I want to help."

For the first time since Jack and Gwen disappeared, Ianto actually felt like laughing. The Mickey effect. Genuine optimism, completely different from Gwen's slightly grating 'If we pretend everyone's good maybe they will be' variety.

"And I'd hate to think what he'd do to me if I let you go alone," Mickey concluded. He quirked an eyebrow again. "Pretty damned protective of you, isn't he? Doesn't seem to me that you need it."

Ianto sighed. "I don't suppose you'd consider telling him that, would you?"

Mickey nodded firmly. "Right after we get 'em back."

**Not very exciting, I know. The 'thrilling rescue attempt' will be in the next chapter**


	21. New Year part 9

**Apologies again for the ridiculously long delay in getting that last chapter posted. I will try to do better from now on!**

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Something shimmered in the air of their cell. Jack leapt for the left wall, Gwen to the right.

The shimmer solidified into a blob. "Hologram," Jack noted. The blob faded back to a shimmer, then returned. "Not a very sophisticated one, though."

A fairly obvious conclusion, given the way the figure continued to flicker. Gwen considered saying, "Duh" but decided it would be immature. She pressed her lips together and watched the blob grow limbs – two upper and two lower. And a tail. It looked vaguely familiar.

"Tsaurian?" Gwen guessed. It did look reptilian, though not exactly like the recent visitors to Earth. And given that she'd woken up in a cell, Gwen was leaning towards the opinion this race wasn't as benevolent as the Tsaurians either. Still, she had to admit that perhaps this wasn't so different from Torchwood's own 'secure 'em first, ask questions later' policy. Maybe it was just a reasonable precaution. Or maybe this was the bleeding heart attitude Jack wanted her to curtail.

Jack frowned. "Nah. The Tsaurians were your iguana variety of sentient reptile. This one's more like a frill-necked lizard."

The description was quite apt. What Gwen had first taken to be hair – that would be a new one, a reptilian race with hair – was in fact a loose frill of skin around the creature's head. And it was tall and slender. The Tsaurians had been shorter and plumper. And altogether more cuddly. Except they had those nasty teeth.

The image finally stopped flickering. The creature's mouth opened, but the words didn't make any sense. It paused, looking intently at a device in its hand. Must be a translation unit, Gwen concluded.

"Translation unit," Jack announced.

"I'd never have guessed," Gwen said, her voice dripping honey. Well, she'd already bitten back one retort.

Jack looked at her with an expression of shock that would have been funny if they weren't stuck in a cell. Had he always treated her as though she couldn't work anything out for herself? Pretty much, and she'd been too stuck in hero-worship mode to notice. Oh well, they'd both have to get past that now.

"Please place your weapon at the door," the image announced. Odd, hearing the voice when the mouth wasn't moving. Gwen hoped the translator would start working faster, so they could explain this was all a mistake and hopefully be sent straight back. And live happily ever after. A girl could dream. Tear wet her eyes. She wanted to be with Rhys for New Year's Eve. Their first New Year's as husband and wife. They'd planned a night in, just the two of them for once. They'd watch the fireworks on the telly and snog each other senseless at midnight. And here she was in a cell God-knew-where with Jack about to indulge in a display of ….of…._Jack-ness._ And all Ianto's eye-rolls started to make sense.

Jack's eyes widened in a display of innocence. "Surely you checked we weren't armed?"

They didn't need a translator to interpret the annoyed huff.

"Our systems detected your final weapon, Jackharkness," the hologram stated. "But we concluded it was not possible to retrieve without considerable discomfort. As we are opposed to unnecessary violence, we decided to let you wake and retrieve it yourself. Please place it at the doorway."

Silence. Gwen choked back a highly inappropriate giggle, hoping she wasn't becoming hysterical. Jack was so proud of his concealed weapon, and their captors knew about it all along.

"We have meals waiting for you," the image added. "But the server is unwilling to deliver them while you remain armed."

Jack's jaw tightened. He was obviously considering something defiant. Gwen panicked afresh. She was afraid any show of defiance would result in retaliation. She tried to look at it rationally. Jack did warn her he might have use rough methods to break them out. But she was sure he'd been relying on the element of surprise and they'd lost that. They had no idea what they were up against. Surely defiance would be just that, mere defiance, with no hope of success. Gwen licked dry lips. If Jack fired, she couldn't fault their captors for retaliating. And they'd been treated relatively well so far. Not even threatened, yet. At the very least, she should make sure Jack didn't do anything impulsive.

But here Jack was, in full Captain mode. It wouldn't be easy for him to back down. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, at a loss to know what to say. Jack's pride was very important to him. For the second time in as many hours, Gwen found herself asking _What would Ianto do?_ And as if the mere thought had summoned her quiet Welsh colleague, the solution floated into her mind. She almost smiled. When they got back, she'd make him write a handbook. The Ianto Jones guide to Jack Harkness.

Gwen touched Jack's arm gently. "How does it feel knowing you've got some poor serving-wench quivering on the other side of the door?"

She chuckled at Jack's look of surprise. Then she actually _saw _the flirt-instinct kick in. "Quivering in fear isn't really my thing," Jack answered eventually.

"A quivering wench _with food_," Gwen added wistfully. Her stomach obliged with an audible growl. "We need to eat, Jack. And drink, more importantly. Didn't you say traveling through the Rift causes dehydration? Don't know about you, but I'm really thirsty."

"Gwenwilliams is correct," the hologram agreed. "Transit draws moisture from carbon-based life-forms. You need replenishment."

Jack disarmed his tiny firearm and placed it in front of the door with a flourish.

_Bless you, Ianto, _Gwen thought in satisfaction. Because that was how Ianto did it. Arguing with Jack didn't always work, but he could usually be counted on to swallow his pride to help someone else. Especially if it involved flirting.

A flap opened in the lower part of the door, reminding Gwen forcibly of the cat-flap they'd had in her childhood home. Thin, bronze fingers curled gingerly around the handle of the weapon and drew it outside.

"Remain against the wall," the hologram warned.

The flap opened again, and the same scaled hand deposited a tray where the weapon had been.

"Thanks gorgeous," Jack called. There was a squeak from outside, and a clatter of claws scurrying away along the corridor. Obviously Jack's tone didn't need translation.

"You're compliance is appreciated," the hologram announced.

"You can show your appreciation by telling us who you are," Jack said. "Not to mention why you've brought us here and why you've imprisoned us."

The frill of skin around the holographic neck rose slightly. "We are the Agamia," it announced. "We have brought you here to answer for your actions against us."

"We haven't done anything to you," Gwen protested.

"Nor have we done anything to you," the Agamian replied. "Which makes it harder to understand why you saw fit to give our enemies the means to destroy us."

"We didn't aid your enemies," Jack protested. "We don't even know who they are. You're making a mistake."

"Formal charges will be laid after your meal," the creature announced. "You may deliver your defense then." The Agamian shook its head, the frill rippling. "If you have one."

"But we haven't _done _anything," Gwen protested.

"Denying your guilt will not help your cause," the image chided.

Gwen fumed silently and occupied herself with an inspection of the food tray. Two vessels filled with fluid. Two bowls, containing what she thought were vegetables. Or fruit. No meat. Were frill-necked lizards herbivores? Did that even matter? She looked enquiringly at Jack.

"Let me test it first," he suggested.

Gwen's stomach sank into her boots. Jack suspected it was drugged or poisoned. And she was hungry, damn it, and so thirsty she was just about ready to lick the sweat off….Bloody pheromones.

Jack swigged some of the liquid, sampled the contents of one of the bowls. They waited.

The hologram made a noise that could only be a sigh, if a somewhat hissy one. "Your food was not tampered with," it announced. "Agamia do not harm other beings – unless provoked."

It vanished before either of them could say another word.

"I shouldn't have retrieved the gun," Jack grumbled.

"They already knew about it," Gwen reminded him. "And you've still got your wristband."

Jack brightened, just for a moment. He really was attached to that that wristband. "That'd be better news if the Doctor hadn't destroyed the transporter function," he admitted. His shoulders slumped.

They ate in silence. Neither of them were thinking anything they wanted to put into words.

"How did it know out names?" Gwen asked, when the bowls were empty.

Jack shrugged. "I think we have to assume this wasn't a random Rift spike. They generated it for the sole purpose of coming after us.

He paused for a swig of what they were calling water.

"Now if it just was me they'd snatched," he continued, "that would be kind of understandable. I've collected a few enemies over the years."

Gwen rolled her eyes but didn't comment.

"But targeting you too, _that _I don't understand," Jack finished.

"They're reptilian," Gwen mused. "Do you think it has anything to do with the Tsaurians?"

"They'd fit as enemies, I suppose," Jack agreed. "But we didn't help the Tsaurians, as such. We pretty much just told them to go away."

"We gave them Rift data," Gwen reminded him. "Do you suppose that's what they meant about helping their enemies?"

Jack's eyes unfocused while he thought about it. "Quite possible," he concluded. "So don't mention it, OK?"

Gwen's spoon clattered into her empty bowl. "What do you think they're going to do to us?"

Jack shrugged. "They seem fairly civilized. We can hope for imprisonment, I suppose."

"Hope?" Gwen repeated. The bowls clashed against each other on the tray as she returned it to its place by the door.

"It's better than execution," Jack answered bluntly.

Just as well she'd already put the tray down.

Jack's arm slid around Gwen's shoulders. She leaned against him, taking comfort just from his presence. They waited in silence until the shimmered with the return of the holographic host.

"You will be taken to the audience chamber for judgment," it announced. "Your escorts will be armed. We do not approve of the use of restraints, but they will be applied if you resist."

The door swung open. There were _four _Agamians outside, all carrying weapons which would certainly meet Jack's criteria for 'big guns.'

Jack sighed. "No one is _ever _glad to see me," he said mournfully.

-XXX-

Ianto wondered whether he should be feeling guilty. Jack and Gwen were missing and here he was, laughing his head off. Maybe it was the painkillers.

But Mickey had so many weapons strapped to him it was a miracle he could still stand up.

Once they'd got the transporters finished, Ianto suggested they arm themselves. A reasonable precaution, given that they'd not only have to break Jack and Gwen free from wherever they were being held, but defend them for at least twenty minutes as well.

Mickey went into raptures the second he entered the armory. A kid in a sweets shop had absolutely nothing on him.

Ianto leaned against a wall and tried to get his breath back. He'd laughed so much his ribs were aching.

"What?" Mickey demanded, clanking as he turned to face Ianto. "I'm being considerate. You can't carry heavy stuff with your ribs cracked. And we'll have to take enough for them as well. They're bound to have been disarmed."

"Did you leave me anything?" Ianto asked, when he had enough breath to talk. "Or shall I point my finger and say BANG?"

"I've left plenty for you," Mickey retorted. He looked around the armory, the movement resulting in much rattling of metal and creaking of leather. "I left you all the small stuff."

Which sent Ianto off again. "I'm going to get Jack to recruit you," he gasped eventually. "He needs someone to enjoy the big guns with." Because they_ were_ going to get Jack back. And Gwen. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

Mickey shook his head. "Nah. I like being an independent."

"Don't blame you," Ianto admitted. "OK, let's see what you've left for me." He roamed the armory, collecting light firearms and spare ammunition, taking the time to adjust the holsters to avoid his cracked ribs. The new painkillers Martha prescribed were doing their job nicely, but there was no point risking further damage that could only weaken him.

Mickey followed, adding a few pieces to his already impressive collection.

"Just think about it," Ianto wheedled. "You could play in the armory whenever you want. And there's a shooting range here, too."

"I can't see myself taking orders from Captain Cheesecake."

The jangling footsteps stopped. Ianto looked around. Mickey was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.

"Something wrong?" Ianto asked anxiously.

"I was just thinking." Mickey hesitated. His next words came out in a rush. "How about you join up with me? I've got enough work for two, and I need someone to watch my back, anyway. Someone I can trust."

Ianto stopped laughing. He was oddly touched to realize Mickey was serious. But it was impossible. "I can't leave Torchwood," he answered, surprised by the regret in his voice.

Mickey heard the tone and jumped on it. His turn to wheedle, now. "Torchwood could contract us both, until Jack gets off his bum and starts recruiting."

Ianto was tempted. How he was tempted. He could walk away from Torchwood. His thirtieth birthday party wouldn't be an unreachable goal. Jack wouldn't Retcon him. Retcon wouldn't take if he was going to work with Mickey, seeing aliens every day. He wouldn't have to watch Jack flirting with Gwen anymore. And if Jack came home to him at night, he'd know it was because he wanted to, not just because it was convenient. If…

Ianto sighed and dragged himself back to more immediate issues.

"Let's get them back, first," he suggested.

They retrieved the transporters from the main Hub.

"Do we actually have a plan?" Ianto asked.

Mickey smiled. "These will take us to wherever they came out. They might still be there, or we might have to hunt around. Will you be able to find them?"

Ianto snatched up his PDA and stowed it in a pocket. "If Jack's still got his wristband I'll be able to track him. Best I can do, I'm afraid."

"Better than nothing," Mickey agreed. "

Their eyes locked.

"This could be dangerous," Mickey warned him.

Ianto almost laughed again. "This _is _Torchwood, Mickey. Dangerous goes without saying."

"I know that. I just thought I should warn you. If anything goes wrong with these, we could get ….um….splinched, I guess."

"Splinched?" Ianto repeated, trying to work out what the word meant. Light dawned. "As in, Harry Potter?"

Mickey nodded seriously. "Well, yeah. If I got any of the circuitry wrong, and the transport cuts out halfway… It's not bloody funny, mate."

Ianto wiped away fresh tears of mirth. "Which half do you think Jack would like on his side?" he gasped. Part of his mind concluded he was descending into hysteria, the rest of him was visualizing his top half making coffee in the Hub, while his lower half…...with Gwen watching, of course.

Mickey shook his head. "You're as crazy as he is."

Ianto smirked. "Says the man who's going with me."

"Don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps?"

Ianto nodded, feeling a manic grin spread across his face, welcoming the adrenaline surge. "We should print that on the stationery."

"I'll put it on the business cards, if you sign on with me," Mickey offered.

They grinned at each other. "I'll think about it," Ianto conceded.

The transporters began humming. Mickey's smile broadened. "They're charged and ready," he announced. "Are you?"

Ianto nodded, his throat suddenly too dry for speech.

Mickey's hand rose to hover over his transporter. Ianto copied him.

"On three?"

Ianto nodded. Three seconds later, the world vanished in a blaze of gold.

Ianto's first reaction was relief. They hadn't splinched.

His second reaction was relief, too, overwhelming in its intensity. Jack was alive. So was Gwen. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

But Ianto had to admit, he would have preferred it if Jack wasn't kissing Gwen.

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**Slight cliffy, but all will be explained, kind of, in the next chapter. Though possibly not to Ianto's satisfaction. Angst will ensue, but you were expecting that, right?**


	22. New Year part 10

**Jack's death earlier in this fic upset some of you, so be warned, more deaths in this chapter. If that is going to upset you, don't read this chapter. The rest of the fic will hopefully still make some sort of sense if you want to pick it up again later.**

It looked like a courtroom. It probably was a courtroom. Agamia in flowing robes sat in rows along the walls, murmuring amongst themselves.

In the middle of the far wall, a translucent dome, reminiscent of a soap bubble. The guards prodded them inside, ignoring Jack's comments about damaging the merchandise. A high pitched whine assaulted Gwen's ears as the gap they'd entered through sealed itself invisibly behind them.

The guards spaced themselves evenly along the perimeter, each bearing one of the translation devices. Making sure they wouldn't miss anything, no doubt.

Jack felt his way along the walls, frowning. "None of this makes sense," he grumbled.

"Which bit in particular?" Gwen asked tiredly, sinking down onto one of the two chairs. A cushioned seat, with arms, but no back. Tails, of course.

"They're all over the place," Jack explained, now reaching up to poke at the roof. "Look at them, archaic clothing," he paused to prod at the other chair. "Wooden furniture," he added. "And that holding cell was basic, too. But this," he gestured to the wall around them. "Highly sophisticated containment technology, but on a completely different level from the hologram generator and translation unit. And their weapons aren't uniform."

"So?" Gwen prompted.

"They're scavengers," Jack explained. "Or they've stolen it all."

"So?" Gwen repeated.

"So they're desperate," Jack concluded softly.

Silence fell. An Agamian rose and ascended a platform not far from their prison. The judge, Gwen presumed. Their judge. A reptilian voice split the silence, followed closely by the translation.

"Gwenwilliams and Jackharkness, you are accused of aiding the Tsuaria in the war against Agamia," it announced.

Gwen's face paled immediately. Jack nudged her. "Leave it to me," he murmured.

"You aren't going to be able to flirt our way out of this," Gwen answered, her voice shaking.

Jack smiled tightly. "Just stay calm." But his hands were balled into fists deep inside his pockets.

One of their guards turned and glared at them. No translation needed.

"The representatives shall present their complaints."

A heavily jeweled Agamian rose from its seat and faced the judge, bowing and chanting. The translator provided words but the setences lacked coherence. Ritual phrases, Gwen concluded.

The Agamian approached the judge. It glanced once at the humans in the chamber as it passed, then lifted its head to face the judge.

"By means of the assistance provided by the accused, the skies above the north were opened. The land burned."

"They opened a Rift," Gwen hissed. "The Tsaurians used the data to open a Rift."

"They tore a hole in the atmosphere," Jack added. Gwen could hear the grating sound of his teeth grinding against one another. "Damned fools. They should have done their experimenting on an uninhabited world."

The Agamian who'd spoken looked directly at them. "My people burned," it added, before returning to its seat. Hisses broke out amongst the audience.

Gwen was glad she was sitting down. The reptilian faces were nothing like a human's, but their expressions were unmistakable. The Agamia _hated_ her. And Jack. But Gwen knew the guilt was all hers. The data recorder was her idea. Well mostly, hers. Jack hadn't tried to stop her giving it to the Tsaurians.

A second Agamian rose and approached the judge, performing the same ritual. This one didn't even glance at them on its way past. "The south didn't burn," it announced. "They took my people. Thousands of them." Its frill of skin rippled as it shuddered.

Gwen glanced at Jack, her confusion asking its own question. "Slave trade, I'd guess," he whispered. He tried to smile. "At least they worked out how to leave the ozone layer intact, that time."

On it went. Witness after witness. Rifts opening, Tsaurians committing atrocities. Towards the end Gwen's head was swimming. A bead of blood gleamed at the corner of Jack's mouth where he'd bitten his lip.

The accusations told the story. The Agamians rallied, fought back. They captured weaponry from their enemies, stole enough technology to defend themselves. Eventually the peace talks began. The seed of the war were discovered. Traced back. To Earth. To two people giving an alien race a data recorder full of technological advances they weren't ready for – yet.

Gwen clamped her mouth shut against a wave of nausea. How could they have gotten it so wrong? They'd been so sure the Tsaurians were benevolent. Gwen remembered Ianto's disappointment that he hadn't been able to meet them. At least that was something to be grateful for. If Ianto had gone with them that day, the Agamia would have taken him, too. But hold on, Gwen thought, that was only a few days ago.

Hope swelled almost painfully in Gwen's heart. "It _couldn't _have been us," she whispered excitedly. "We only handed it over this week. They couldn't have progressed that fast."

Jack squeezed her hand. "Rift in _time_ as well as space," he reminded her.

Gwen's heart sank again. The lingering nausea drained away, replaced by an icy rush of fear. Gwen was suddenly, painfully aware that she might never see Ianto again. Or….or _Rhys_. Or Earth. Or anything. She and Jack had started a war. They were war criminals. Intentions didn't count.

They were guilty as charged. She knew it. Gwen wondered if she pleaded guilty, would they let Jack go? If he was free, he'd find a way to get her out.

Silence fell. Gwen shook herself out of her introspection. Jack was rising to his feet. Time to present their defense, she supposed. Time to admit her guilt. Jack wouldn't want her to sacrifice herself, but she'd explain after he rescued her.

"You're making a mistake," Jack said calmly. "We played no part in your war."

Hisses rose from the audience.

"You were identified," the judge declared.

"By whom?" Jack had risen to his full height; coat flung back, hands on his hips. His most arrogant pose. The defiant Captain Harkness, in full the-hell-with-you mode.

The hisses escalated into growls. Gwen shifted uneasily, wondering what Jack was trying to achieve. Their captors had been relatively civilized so far. She couldn't understand why Jack was trying to aggravate them.

"During the peace talks," the judge answered. Even the translation sounded uncertain.

"So," Jack drawled, beginning to pace around their prison. "The creatures who destroyed half your planet, pointed their claws at two random Earthlings and said 'it's all their fault', and you just _believed _them?" Jack turned back to Gwen and gave a gravelly laugh, loaded with contempt. "Y'know, it's true what they say about races getting exposed to technology before they're ready – these guys are soooo naïve!"

Agamians erupted from their seats, tails lashing. Gwen felt the first tendrils of actual panic lash at her. This wasn't like Jack. He was going to get them both killed.

Gwen's chair crashed to the ground. She was on her feet but she couldn't remember standing up. The Agamia were in an uproar.

The judge banged a gong. With the part of her mind that wasn't trying to process what the hell Jack was up to, Gwen noted that a gavel worked better.

And Jack _winked_.

Everything slowed down, while her mind sped up. Jack was trying to make their captors angry. That didn't make sense – unless you took the basic goodness of Jack Harkness into account. The amazing self-sacrificing person he hid under all the flirting and arrogance.

If Jack was trying to enrage the Agamia to the point of retaliation, it could only be because somehow that would help save _her_. Did he think making himself a target would mean they'd go easier on her? The Agamia were armed and furious, and in that state, capable of anything. Capable, she was sure, of killing. But Jack would revive. What would they do then. Would they try again? And again….and again.

Gwen knew about the Valiant. Ianto said Jack had given him permission to tell her, as long as she promised never to ask about it. Maybe Jack hadn't given permission, and Ianto told her anyway so she'd stop trying to find out. Ianto wasn't above deceiving Jack in order to protect him. Regardless of how it happened though, Gwen _knew_.

And she couldn't let Jack risk that again….not for her.

"We just wanted them to leave Earth," Gwen yelled, her voice carrying clearly across the uproar. "We only gave them enough information so they wouldn't come back. We didn't know they'd hurt anyone."

The silence was as ear shattering as the protests. Then the murmuring began. All the more terrifying because it didn't sound angry anymore. The judge said something else but Gwen couldn't hear it over the roaring in her ears.

Jack turned sad eyes on Gwen. Somehow she was more frightened than if he'd been angry. "What part of 'leave it to me' did you miss?" he asked softly.

Gwen licked dry lips. "You were riling them up," she answered. "They'd have hurt you. They might have killed you."

Jack dragged heavy hands along his face, forehead to chin. "They're civilized. Naïve, but civilized."

Gwen dropped her eyes. "I thought you were trying to divert their anger onto yourself. And it was my idea to give them the recorder. I didn't want you to take the blame."

Jack dropped his hands, a crooked smile quirking his face. "I'm a bit more resilient than you, Gwen, but that wasn't what I was doing. Not this time." He paused, watching the Agamia, who had already begun filing out of the room. "They don't even want to watch," he mused, so low Gwen doubted she was meant to hear. "They want justice, not revenge." He smiled that crooked smile again. "So at least it won't hurt."

Gwen swallowed, trying fruitlessly to moisten her dry throat. "What are they going to do to us, Jack?"

"I've seen cultures like this," Jack explained, using his 'teacher' voice. "Peaceful races forced into war to defend themselves. They don't like causing pain, even to defend themselves. Even when their laws demand it. So they don't execute unless there's no question of guilt. Impeccable eye witnesses, for example. Or," he raised her chin so their eyes met. "A confession."

"Which I just gave them." Gwen's knees felt weak. Pity she'd knocked over he chair. She_ really_ needed to sit down. Jack lowered her to the ground, pushing her head between her knees. "Fainting would be a _really _bad idea," he warned. Gwen fought the encroaching dizziness. The warm breath tickling her ear wasn't helping in the slightest. The phermones were making her giddy.

"C'mon, Gwen, we aren't dead yet."

The sheer starkness of the comment cleared the fog from Gwen's brain. She dragged herself to her feet as the dome split open.

The guards didn't talk to them on the way back to their cell. Didn't even look at them. Didn't prod them with the guns, either.

Jack walked close beside her, muttering into her ear, too softly for the translators to pass on to their captors. "Whatever they do," he ordered "Let me go first." Gwen's eyes widened, her mouth opened to argue, but Jack continued without a break. "Let them kill me first, if that's what they're gonna do. Then hang on as long as you can. I'll resuscitate you after I revive."

A chance, Gwen thought numbly. A tiny chance. This time, she was going to do exactly what Jack told her.

They were back in their cell. Same mattress. The only difference was the shutters over the window. The room was darker. Not even any light coming from under the door anymore. Pointless to wish they'd tried to escape earlier.

Jack's eyes flickered around the room. "Lie down," Jack snapped, remaining upright himself.

Gwen was at the point of fear where not having to think was a relief. She just obeyed.

There was no announcement, no warning. Whorls of – something – began to drift across the ceiling.

"It'll take a while to sink," Jack told her. "Hold your breath when it reaches you."

The whorls must be gas. Poisoned gas. Poisoned air. She was being executed. Jack would save her. He would. He'd get her home to Rhys.

Gwen tried not to sob as she watched Jack begin to slump. She knew he wanted to succumb as quickly as possible, so that he'd revive in time to save her. So she'd die alone. But if she cried she'd need more breath, and her task was to conserve whatever air was left. To hang on as long as she could.

"See you on the other side," Jack gasped, as he sagged to the floor. Going out with a joke. Leave 'em laughing as you go. Classic Harkness.

Even lying down, Gwen could smell the difference in the air. She pressed her face lower, right against the floor, where the air was still relatively clear, and filled her lungs to bursting point. Her body drained the oxygen from that final breath and clamored for more. Spots swam before her eyes and her lungs emptied and filled against her will. Gwen started counting the breaths until oblivion, just for something to do apart from gibber in fear. It didn't hurt. A compassionate execution. Gwen dragged herself to Jack's side. No movement, no breath. He wasn't going to wake up in time.

Gwen died with her arms around Jack, but her last thought was of Rhys.

-XXX-

Gwen's_ first_ thought was that Rhys didn't kiss this way. But she was breathing again, and the air wasn't poisoned anymore. Not what she'd expected of an afterlife, but not bad. Not bad at all.

Fireworks burst somewhere outside her closed eyes. New Year's firework in the afterlife, too. Gwen forced heavy lids open, and there _were _fireworks. Two big golden orbs with people in the middle. Gwen's heart raced as she remembered John Hart emerging from the Rift exactly that way. But it wasn't Hart this time.

It was _Ianto._ Beautiful Ianto. It was a shame he looked so unhappy, because Gwen had never been so glad to see him in her life. And he'd brought Mickey Smith with him. He was beautiful too. But he was annoyed. If her brain would just start working properly she'd be able to work out what was wrong with them both.

"Oi, you," Mickey said pointedly. "He's taken." Gwen thought fuzzily that the Agamians looked less murderous when they'd sent them off to be executed. _Them_. Jack must be somewhere around, too.

Gwen turned her head, wondering where Jack had gotten to. And still wondering why Mickey and Ianto were so upset. They'd just pulled off an inter-dimensional rescue. She'd have thought they'd be happy. No pleasing some people.

"Ah, Gwen, would you mind?" Oh, Jack _was_ there. Very nearby, in fact. Odd that she couldn't see him.

The floor beneath her moved, tipping her to the – floor?

Gwen decided it was terribly unfair. She was new to this 'coming back from the dead' caper. How did they expect her to cope with _that_ and still notice a minor detail like sitting in Jack's lap?

As Ianto helped her to her feet, butler mask firmly in place, Gwen put the rest of it together. She supposed it must have been Jack kissing her before.

Bugger. Gwen hated decaf.

**If anything in t****his chapter looks or feels like Gwen-bashing, it is not meant to! (I like Gwen, mostly.) But – The Gwen of CoE is physically tougher and mentally harder compared to CoE. And less ga-ga about Jack. Something took away her veneer of innocence and this is my take on what it might have been. **

**Angst and fluff resume in the next chapter. **


	23. New Year part 11

**Apologies for the delay. This chapter resisted doing what it was meant to and had to be rewritten a nauseating amount of times. Hope it's fit to read now.**

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Jack felt the familiar burn of oxygen flowing into awakening lungs. No pain, at least. A gentle death, a gentle resurrection. There were arms draped limply across him, but they weren't the ones he yearned for. No Ianto, for the second time in a row. Jack shivered, and not from cold. It was a taste of the eternity that awaited. Awareness trickled back, more painful than the gas that caused this particular death. If he couldn't get back to Earth, he'd never wake in Ianto's arms again. Never feel Ianto's arms again, ever. How stupid he'd been to feel resentful about the prospect of only a few more years with the man he loved. At this moment, he'd give all the centuries he had left just for one more embrace.

Jack's mind snapped back into focus. The arms lying across him were Gwen's arms. Limp, because she'd died too, and _he_had to get her back. Jack jerked himself upright, pulled Gwen into his lap and commenced resuscitation, sharing breath, sharing life. Throwing everything he had into this particular battle, because he'd lost Suzie, and Owen, and Tosh, and maybe – maybe he'd never be able to get back to Ianto - and he _couldn't_ lose anyone else.

Golden light flared against his closed eyelids, an effect of oxygen deprivation, Jack assumed, because right at that moment Gwen convulsed in his arms, sucking the breath out of his mouth, stealing the air out of his lungs.

There was another voice, a voice he knew, if not the one he longed for. Mickey the Idiot, who was developing the useful habit of turning up just when he was needed. Jack opened his eyes and the witty greeting died on his tongue. Mickey wasn't alone. Ianto was with him, and that would have been the best thing in the universe if not for the fact that Gwen was still on Jack's lap. Ianto's face froze and Jack's mind descended into a pit, along with his heart and stomach. Ianto was here, close enough to touch, with his butler mask pasted over pain and his eyes fixed on Gwen who still nestled on Jack's lap. Gwen, who was currently blinking vaguely while awareness returned, obviously not really sure where she was. Jack's lips had been known to do that to people, a time or two.

"Gwen," Jack said softly, "Would you mind?" When she made no move he shifted his legs, tipping her gently to the floor.

Ianto's arm stretched out stiffly toward Gwen, helping her up. The eternal gentleman. Gwen's eyes focused and widened in understanding. She looked imploring at Ianto. "I didn't…." she faltered. "That wasn't what it looked like…"

Ianto steadied her with an arm around her waist. "It's OK," he said. "I'm just glad you're both all right." The words were encouraging but his face was impassive. In his eyes lurked the shadows Gwen had last seen when he'd cut in at her wedding. Shadows she'd hoped never to put there again. And she hadn't meant to, damn it. Jack ought to be able to control his own pheromones, for God's sake.

Mickey favored her with a look that could have killed – if he hadn't crossed time and space to save her.

"I can explain," Jack offered, struggling to his feet unaided. "Later," he added, locking eyes with Ianto, who simply nodded, butler mask still firmly in place. They'd learnt by now to keep emotions from affecting their interactions at work, but locking away the pain didn't stop it hurting.

"There's gas," Gwen warned. She waved a hand at the fog now dispersing across the ceiling. "We have to get out of here."

"Still eighteen minutes until recharge," Mickey announced, switching his death glare to Jack.

Ianto pulled something out of his jacket and studied the display. "Toxin levels within acceptable range now," he reported. "We can wait."

Any reply the others might have made was drowned out by the clanging of an alarm.

"Someone noticed us arrive," Mickey commented, looking around wildly. Nowhere to hide.

"They can identify the presence of weapons," Gwen announced.

"And yours aren't even concealed," Jack added, looking pointedly at Mickey's admittedly excessive armament.

Ianto shot Jack a dark look. Gwen remembered Ianto knew where Jack hid that concealed weapon, that he'd seen him retrieve it. Her face burned. "I didn't watch," she said, blushing furiously.

Mickey looked from one to the other with avid curiosity.

Ianto actually smiled at her. "Later, Gwen," he said softly.

"In about seventeen minutes," Mickey said. His eyes were glued to his watch, as if willing the hands to move faster. Ianto delved in his pockets again. "Use this," he suggested, tossing something to Mickey.

Jack watched the stopwatch fly through the air and realized that actually, he _did_ do jealousy. That was _their _stopwatch. And Ianto hadn't even smiled at him, yet.

"They might be coming to collect the bodies," Jack said pointedly. "They executed us, after all."

Ianto's face paled. Better than the butler face, but still not the reaction Jack wanted. Still no hug. Still no smile. Jack wondered how he'd managed to live for this long and yet be so _bad _at this stuff. He really should just stick to something he was good at. Flirting. Casual, mindless, emotionless sex. One-nighters. All of which had mysteriously lost their appeal.

"I'd just finished resuscitating Gwen when you arrived," Jack added virtuously. Crap, he actually sounded whiny. Jack hated whiny. Time to get himself in order. They could sort everything out if - when - they got home.

"If that was resuscitation, sign me up for classes," Mickey said loudly.

Ianto sighed. "Later," he reminded them all. Why did he always end up the voice of reason? "Let's get home first."

"Sixteen minutes," Mickey announced.

The alarms stilled. In the silence, they could hear the faint tramp of footsteps.

Mickey loosed an impressively large weapon from its holster, a wide grin spreading across his face. "We've brought enough for you two as well," he said brightly.

"You've brought enough for a small army," Jack noted. "But we'd rather not shoot our way out if it can be avoided. The Agamians aren't violent."

Mickey snorted. Ianto assumed the butler mask again. "They executed you, you said?"

"We actually _were_ guilty as charged," Gwen admitted. "At least I was."

Ianto rolled his eyes.

"That data recorder I gave the Tsaurians," Gwen explained. "They used it to attack the Agamians. The Tsaurians devastated their planet and enslaved their people." She blinked rapidly. "Think about it, Ianto. If that happened to us, to Earth, we wouldn't have stopped at executing just the two people responsible, would we?"

Even Mickey was lost for a witty retort.

"They won't fire unless you threaten them," Jack put in, looking intently at Ianto. "They'll defend themselves if you fire first, but they won't attack."

The tension in the cell lightened perceptively. Mickey sniffed. "You're beginning to sound like the Doctor, Jack."

Jack positively glowed. "I don't know I actually meant that as a compliment," Mickey added.

Gwen looked on in bemusement as the two men indulged in a verbal punching match. Very similar, she thought fondly, to the way Ianto and Owen used to behave. Insults covering affection neither wanted to acknowledge.

Ianto let the banter flow over him, deep in thought. "Would they be amenable to us taking your bodies back for ritual interment, do you think?"

Mickey and Jack stopped in mid-jibe and stared at him.

Jack grinned. "You're brilliant, Ianto Jones."

Ianto stowed his pistol away. "Back in the holsters, Mickey," he reminded his friend. "We'll try talking our way out first."

"You're no fun," Mickey grumbled, strapping his weapon back into place. "We're gonna have to work on that. And it'll be me giving the orders, then, just so you know."

"I haven't actually agreed to work for you," Ianto pointed out.

"Yet," Mickey added.

Jack glared at Mickey. Yes, he definitely did jealousy, now.

"I can explain," Ianto said sweetly. "Later." He _shouldn't_ be enjoying this. Steroids mustn't be out of his system yet.

"Fourteen minutes," Mickey announced.

"That's gonna get old," Jack grumbled.

"I'll stop," Mickey promised. "In thirteen and a half minutes."

The tramp of approaching feet grew nearer.

Ianto bit his lip. "Can they see us?" he asked.

Jack and Gwen looked at each other thoughtfully. "Not without the hologram?" Gwen suggested.

"They communicated via hologram," Jack clarified. "I didn't see any evidence they knew what was going on when the projection wasn't here."

"Right," Ianto said. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Play dead."

Jack dropped instantly to the floor, eyes shut. Gwen looked at Ianto enquiringly. "What are you going to do?"

The footsteps stopped outside the door. "No time to explain," Ianto hissed.

"Get down, Gwen," Jack ordered. She dropped down beside him, arms and legs sprawled artistically.

Mickey chuckled softly. "Wouldn't be a bit of a drama queen, would you?"

Gwen's middle finger quirked up.

A key grated in the lock. "Which one do you want?" Ianto whispered.

"I'll take the drama queen," Mickey answered. Gwen's finger moved again.

"Right," Ianto agreed. He prodded Jack in the ribs with his toe. "You're mine, then."

Jack rolled onto the prodding foot. "Always," he murmured. Ianto was fairly surely none of the others heard. Wasn't even sure he'd heard right himself.

-XXX-

The creatures – people – outside the door only carried one firearm each. On seeing Ianto and Mickey, armed to the teeth and standing protectively over the two prisoners, the Agamians backed away into a defensive formation and raised their weapons.

Mickey reached for one of his weapons. "Don't," Ianto hissed. Mickey froze, his face stretched into a feral grin, eyes blazing. Not surprising. Ianto could feel the adrenaline surging through his own veins, killing the returning twinges from his ribs.

At his feet, Jack's muscles screamed with tension while his heart thudded. Ianto was following his orders. If the Agamians fired, it was his fault. This, Jack reminded himself, is why you shouldn't have fallen for a workmate. Especially not one you'll probably send to his death one day.

"We're just here to retrieve the bodies," Ianto reminded Mickey – and himself. Part of him yearned for vengeance against the beings who had executed his friends, which was irrational, given they were both alive. But still…Gwen must have been terrified, and Jack had revived alone. "How much longer?"

"Twelve minutes."

They watched the Agamians watching them. No one moved. No one spoke. No translator, Ianto assumed. He raised both hands, palms outward, hoping the peace gesture was as universally understood as Jack always claimed.

An Agamian at the rear of the formation barked an order and began hissing into what Ianto assumed was a communicator. Weapons lowered. One of the – soldiers? – handed his weapon to another and stepped forward. The door slammed, leaving them alone again.

Mickey leapt forward and tested the door handle. "Locked," he muttered.

Jack and Gwen twitched, easing muscles stiff from being held still. Jack's eyes cracked open. "Good job," he said warmly. "Especially the way you…"

"Hush," Ianto said, nudging Jack with his foot again. "You're supposed to be dead." Jack's mouth closed with an audible snap of teeth. Yes, Ianto was definitely enjoying this, whether he should be or not.

Gwen stifled a giggle against the floor. But Jack had already obeyed 'play dead' and 'hush', and she couldn't help wondering how long it would be before Ianto got around to 'beg.' She didn't want to be there for that, though. Not really...At least...Not without popcorn and a handicam.

"How did I get stuck with being the sensible one?" Mickey demanded. "Hologram," he added warningly.

The air shimmered. An elaborately robed Agamian appeared in the air amongst them.

"Why are you here?" it demanded, its lips moving out of synch with the translation.

"Crappy translation technology," Mickey commented.

"Which works both ways," Ianto responded, as the Agamian bristled. The skin around its neck rose to form a stiff collar around its neck. Ianto had to assume that wasn't a good sign. "Try not to offend them again, OK?" he hissed.

"See, I need you along for diplomacy," Mickey said. Ianto felt Jack twitch against his leg and gave another warning prod with the toe of his shoe.

Ianto spread his hands again. The Agamian's crest flattened to half mast. Ianto heaved a sigh of relief.

"We seek a boon," he began formally. Formality had served him well with the last aliens he'd had to negotiate with, so he thought it was worth a try again. Besides which, formality would help fill the time they needed before the transfer units recharged.

"Explain first," the Agamian replied, "why you come armed for war."

_Crap Crap Crap Shit Crap._Ianto glanced at Mickey, who raised both hands, thumbs down. Eight minutes. OK, he could bluff his way through eight minutes.

"We didn't know who had taken them," Ianto began. "Nor why. It seemed prudent to retain the means to defend ourselves."

The Agamian's crest flattened around its shoulders again.

"Ask," it intoned. Ianto felt his own shoulders sag with relief. The equivalent, he supposed, of the Agamian lowering its crest.

"We wish to take the…er….remains of our comrades home for …for the performance of the necessary rituals." Ianto thought that sounded OK. He just hoped the formal phrasing wouldn't tie his tongue into the same sort of knot that currently twisted his stomach.

There was a scatter of what Ianto couldn't help thinking of as 'lizard-talk' coming from the hologram. Whoever was speaking either wasn't directing their words to the translator, or was too far away from it. Either way, Ianto couldn't understand a word. Sweat soaked its way through his shirt. Why did he always end up doing the talking? If the Agamians flooded the chamber with gas again, it'd be his fault. Come to that, why hadn't they? They could have pumped a sedative through, at least. He would have, in their position.

"Will you return for vengeance?" the Agamian asked.

Mickey clapped a hand over his mouth to cover inappropriate laughter. Ianto just felt sorry for the whole race. He understood now why Jack and Gwen weren't seeking retribution. The Agamians were hopelessly naïve.

"We just want to take them home," Ianto answered. He looked down at Jack, who was giving far too good an imitation of a corpse. Ianto's eyes filled. He was just glad Jack couldn't see him. He'd never see the end of the teasing, and Jack would start 'playing dead' just to get a reaction out of him.

"He wouldn't want us to retaliate," Ianto explained, suddenly knowing exactly what to say. "He…and she…did not intend to cause harm to your planet or your people. And I know they'd give their lives to undo it." He took a deep breath, and continued. "I swear to you, on their behalf, and in their honour. We will _not_ retaliate for your actions against them, and we _will _do our utmost to ensure that our people leave yours alone, to recover from the damage inflicted on your by thier…_our_ carelessness."

The silence that followed was so profound Ianto wondered if the translator had broken.

Mickey caught his eye and mimicked wiping away a tear. Using, Ianto noticed, two fingers. Two minutes left. His heart beat faster. They were going to make it. They were going home.

The hologram hissed, followed by the translation.

"Take them," the Agamian said. "With our…regrets." The figure looked pointedly down at Ianto's feet. "He was your…." The final word didn't translate.

Ianto nodded. That pretty much described them. Mine. Yours. Did it really matter what the last word was?

"He's mine," Ianto agreed.

The Agamian bowed. "Your forbearance humbles us," it said. Even the translation sounded respectful.

The transfer device hanging from Ianto's neck began to vibrate. He looked sharply at Mickey. "Soon," Mickey confirmed, looking intently at his own unit. "Time for the grand exit."

But he'd said enough. Deceived these people enough. He didn't have the time or the heart for theatrics. Ianto crouched down and wrapped his arm around Jack, hugging him against his side, ignoring the complaint from his ribs. He could see Mickey doing the same for Gwen.

Ianto and the Agamian watched each other in silence until the transfer unit glowed. Ianto raised his hand in farewell before slapping it down onto the centre of the unit. The world burned golden as the device took hold, and Ianto's last glimpse of his first alien world was the Agamian bowing his own farewell.

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**Nearly done. Just the angst and the fluff to finish.**


	24. New Year part 12

**So they're back in the Hub. This chapter turned out a bit Gwen-centric, but in a good way, I hope. **

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They re-emerged into the Hub amidst the now-familiar blaze of golden light. And collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs on the uneven Hub floor.

Jack straightened in Ianto's hold, easing cramped muscles but careful not to shrug the enfolding arm away. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Good to have you back, Sir," Ianto answered, using precisely _that _tone. And Jack was finally getting _that_ smile, too. It was good to be home. He tried to draw Ianto closer, but was hampered by the fact that Ianto appeared to be wearing the smaller half of the armory. Jack's smile spread. Only Ianto could have packed that much hardware without ruining the line of his jacket.

"And there I was thinking you were glad to see me," Jack complained.

Ianto met his eyes, a soft smile on his face. "I was. You know I was."

"But it was just a gun in your pocket," Jack concluded.

"Old joke, Jack," Ianto chided, laughing anyway. "Very old."

"But the old ones are the best," Jack protested, arching an eyebrow.

"No argument from me," Ianto teased. "I do appreciate vintage."

"Cheeky young whippersnapper," Jack growled, his arms searching the maze of firearms for a way around Ianto's waist.

Stifled laughter close by reminded Ianto of the fact they weren't alone, and he pulled away, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. Jack eased himself to his feet and watched with the smile frozen on his face and something twisting in his gut, as Mickey introduced Ianto to the intricacies of the high-five. Ianto was glowing, goddamn it. Laughing. Looking his age for once.

"How about that?" Mickey gloated. The display of manly affection progressed to pounding each other on the back. "It worked!"

"And not a splinch," Ianto agreed.

Gwen paled. "You didn't say that could happen!"

"No time," Mickey said dismissively. "Why, would you have stayed?"

Gwen shook her head. "Guess not. Thanks, boys."

"Boys?" Mickey protested.

"Gentlemen," Gwen corrected herself.

"Splinched?" Jack repeated, looking from one to another in confusion.

"Told you to read Harry Potter," Ianto chided. "Come on Mickey, back to the armory. Before you forget that none of that belongs to you."

"Did I mention," Mickey said, his voice fading as he traipsed after Ianto. "That you're no fun?"

-XXX-

Gwen propped herself against a desk. Feeling lightheaded. She'd _died_. She'd seen the darkness Jack talked about. And she was alive again. It was too much to take in. Her mind was spinning, thoughts flowing too fast to catch, yet too strong to ignore. How did Jack do this, over and over?

Jack had brought her out of the darkness. Saved her life again. She'd woken in his arms, his lips on hers, only to realize she'd rather they'd been Rhys'. Nothing like cheating death to show a girl where her heart really lay.

And Ianto had brought them home. Quiet, unassuming Ianto. Pride in her colleague built slowly within Gwen, along with a newfound respect. Not to mention a healthy dose of guilt for all the times she'd dismissed him as the Teaboy. Jack's faithful lieutenant. Jack's toy, even. Never again, Gwen vowed to herself. Having someone save you life was reason enough to look at him with new eyes, and what she saw was damned impressive. Gwen shook her head, trying to clear it, and wondered how she'd managed to overlook Ianto's strength so long. The way he always seemed content to stay in Jack's shadow, probably.

Gwen switched her scrutiny to Jack. Watched him watch Ianto, and finally _saw_. Saw the way he looked at the young man when he thought no-one was watching. So different from the usual amused or amorous mask that he wore. For the first time, Gwen saw the fear. Saw the _love_. Saw the instant he registered the sound of her approaching feet and hide his feelings beneath his usual smile. Assuming the Jack mask, the same way Ianto wore the butler face. Twits. It was all very well to be reticent about showing your feelings in public, but hiding them from each other as well was just idiocy.

Gwen rubbed a hand across her eyes and hoped this post-resurrection clarity went away soon. It was uncomfortable. If neither of them could see it, why should she have to? The problem with knowledge was, she'd have to do something with it. Gwen sighed to herself. She hadn't forgotten the tension between them this morning. What was it Jack said? Something about maybe moving out, she recalled. A week after officially moving in, though she couldn't recall the last night the two men had spent apart. Fools, the pair of them. If she didn't do something soon, they'd break each others hearts.

At the risk of being sexist, Gwen concluded that men were idiots. All of them.

Except Rhys, of course.

-XXX-

Jack's eyes followed Ianto and Mickey as they wandered into the armory and started to help each other disarm. His mind floated as he drank in the sight he'd been afraid he'd never see again. Ianto. Ianto with his jacket off, shirt bristling with a truly impressive number of pistols. The click of Gwen's boot heels broke his reverie. Her hand dropped onto his arm. "What are you doing out here, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "Just watching the kids play," he said lightly.

Gwen smiled as a burst of laughter erupted from the armory. "It's good to hear him laugh, isn't it? Sometimes I forget how young he is."

"I don't," Jack answered, his gaze fixed on the glass windows of the armory. "Not for a second."

Gwen noticed how his hands clenched on the edge of his chair. Fighting the urge to follow Ianto, she concluded. Playing it cool. Fool. She sighed and decided on the direct approach.

"I'd expected you to be in there helping him disarm," Gwen prodded. "Why aren't you?"

Jack shrugged. "He's been trying to avoid _my_ help all week."

There was another burst of laughter from the armory. Jack's face darkened as he watched Ianto untangling a holster from around Mickey's chest. "And he's got Mickey."

Gwen tried not to laugh. She really did. It would be so inappropriate, and unkind too, given that Jack was opening up to her. But really, Jack Harkness, intergalactic omni-sexual playboy, feeling insecure because Ianto was laughing with someone else? Insecure, or….

"God, Jack," she said, the laugh escaping as the realization hit her. "You're jealous! You! You're actually jealous. Of Mickey?"

Jack huffed out an unconvincing chuckle. "Of course not, Gwen. I don't do jealousy. If Ianto wants Mickey, he can have him. Hell, I'll even watch - if they ask nicely."

Gwen's limited store of patience expired. "Stop being ridiculous, Jack. Of course he doesn't. He doesn't want Mickey. He wants _you_. He _needs _you."

There was more to say. More she _had_ to say, and the words hurt even now. Something inside her still clung to the dream. Something she had to get rid of it, before it regained its hold, and blinded her to what she really wanted. _Who_ she really wanted. Again. "And _you_ need _him_. So for God's sake, Jack, stop pretending you don't, before you convince him." There, it was done. And it was a clean hurt. A hurt like the swipe of a scalpel, excising what shouldn't be there. Gwen felt better, more whole, than she had for months.

Jack's arm twitched beneath hers. "I should suspend you for insolence," he grumbled.

"You should," Gwen agreed. "How about starting right now, so I can be home before Rhys and cook him dinner for a change? So _I_ get to yell at _him _when he goes out drinking with his mates and it all dries out?"

Jack smiled that heartbreaking smile, and brushed a kiss against her cheek. "Domestic bliss, huh? Go for it. Happy New Year, Gwen." And if her cheek tingled from the touch of his lips, well, the hell with it, she was only human. Didn't they say it didn't matter where you got your appetite, as long as you came home to eat?

Job half done, Gwen thought, as she made her way to the armory. "Hey, Ianto?"

Ianto racked the last rifle and turned enquiringly. Mickey was still there, too, looking somewhat like a plucked chicken without all the hardware. Much less bulky. "You're done," Ianto told him. "Go get Jack to sign your paycheck."

Mickey saluted, got a punch on the arm for his cheek, and Gwen stepped back to let him out. She met his suspicious eyes with a gaze that held nothing except sincerity. "Thanks Mickey," Gwen said. "Thanks for coming to get me."

Mickey nodded, as stiffly as he could manage, which wasn't very stiff. He jerked his chin toward Ianto. "He's the one you should be thanking. I was just along for the ride."

"I plan to," Gwen assured him.

But alone in the armory, with Ianto trying so hard to behave as though it was just an ordinary day; it was hard to find the words. So she said it with a hug, the words secondary, mumbled into his shoulder. "Thank you Ianto. Thank you so much."

Ianto returned the embrace awkwardly.

"Get used to it, Ianto," Gwen said firmly. "I'm a hugger, and I hug my friends. So you're getting hugged." She released him and looked at him imploringly. "We _are_ friends, aren't we?"

Ianto regarded her gravely. "I suspect so," he answered, backing away, probably trying to avoid another hug. "But I'm not much of hugger myself," he admitted.

Gwen laughed softly. "I'll restrain myself," she promised. "To when you save my life, and such."

"Jack saved you first," Ianto pointed out. Deflecting the praise, redirecting the glory. Just like he always did. And incidentally bringing up the topic they'd been avoiding.

Gwen shifted uneasily, still not sure what to say. "That was just resuscitation, you know that don't you?"

Ianto smiled. Pity the effort showed. "I've been on the receiving end of Jack's resuscitation, Gwen. I know exactly what it feels like."

"Scrambles the brain a bit, those pheromones," Gwen agreed, warming inside as the honest response won her a startled smile. A real one. "But I'm back in my right mind, now," she explained. "And I'm off home to Rhys. So, um, Happy New Year."

She'd done her best. Or her worst. Up to them now.

-XXX-

Halfway across the Hub, Gwen saw Jack coming the other way, carrying both his coat and Ianto's. The determined look on his face made her smile. Off to fight a battle he'd already won. She hoped, a trifle wickedly, that Ianto wouldn't make it too easy for him. Ianto had put up with a lot from Jack, and he deserved a bit of wooing. Wooing. Gwen Williams, you are _such_ a girl.

A girl on her way home to her very own hero. And she didn't give Torchwood a thought for the rest of the year.

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**Nearly done. Just fluff left, with a seasoning of angst. And a roof. And fireworks. (Yes probably that kind too...) **

**Thank you for reading!**


	25. New Year part 13

**Just a short chapter, building up to the fireworks. Did I say there'd be fluff? There's fluff. **

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Jack was waiting when Ianto emerged from the armory. With both their coats hanging over his arm.

"Ready to go home?" he asked. Home. Jack decided he liked that word, and it had been too long since he'd had one.

Ianto fought back an unexpected yawn and glanced across the Hub. "The Rift….." he began.

Jack smiled slowly. "Covered," he announced. "I extended Mickey's contract. He didn't want to head back to London tonight, anyway, so he's going to monitor the Rift. He'll call if we're needed."

"He'll need somewhere to sleep, though," Ianto said, his brow crinkling into the frown that meant he was too tired to think straight. Jack tried not to think of it in terms like 'cute' or 'adorable' but it was becoming scarily evident that Jack Harkness now did sentiment as well as jealousy. _And_ monogamy. Been in this century _far_ too long. He'd have to consider changing his name again, if he wanted to preserve his reputation.

"I've already shown him the bunker," Jack said smugly.

Still the frown. "Hasn't been used for a while. He'll need fresh sheets."

"Done," Jack smirked. "Home," he repeated, holding Ianto's coat up for him to slip into.

Ianto froze in the act of sliding his arms into the sleeves and turned his head to regard Jack with suspicion. "Did we come back to some bizarre universe where you've suddenly become practical?"

Jack chuckled. "OK," he admitted. "Mickey found the bed linen himself. But since you've done the hero thing today, I decided to take care of the rest." His hands lingered over Ianto's shoulders as he tweaked the coat collar into place. "Which includes taking care of _you_."

The faintest hint of a blush tinted Ianto's cheeks. "Mickey did most of it," he mumbled, doing his bit to put the world back into balance by taking Jack's coat and helping him into it.

"Odd," Jack commented. "_He_ said you did it all."

Ianto shook his head with enthusiasm. "I was just going in circles until he got here."

Jack smiled fondly. They were both as bad as each other. "According to Mickey, we'd still be stuck there without you."

Odd how he hadn't realised how similar the two young men were. Completely different on first sight, but both of them accomplished so much and hid behind someone else when the time came for recognition. No wonder they got along so well. And with that simple thought, the little demon of jealousy Jack had repressed for so much of his life opened its beady green eyes and peered hotly from somewhere deep within, warning him anew that love meant loss.

"I'll go make sure he knows where everything is," Ianto decided.

The green-eyed demon took exception and roared - using Jack's mouth.

"I told you he's fine," Jack heard himself saying. "I'm tired and I'm heading home. Are you coming with me or are you gonna stay here and hang out with Mickey?" Jack cringed, more from the petulant tone than the words, and tried to tell himself it wasn't really his fault. He was new at this jealousy crap, after all.

Ianto's eyebrows rose quizzically. "Of course I want to come home," he answered. His voice held more of confusion than defensiveness. The demon grumbled its way back into hiding and left Jack feeling more than a little bit foolish. Especially considering there was a definite twinkle now buried deep in Ianto's eyes.

"I'm just going to say goodbye, OK?" Ianto continued, and his voice was soothing now. Damn. Rumbled. "I won't be long, Jack. Meet you at the car, if you like."

Jack flapped a reassuring hand. "Of course. Sorry. Just tired. You know, what with being executed and playing dead….and…." and broke off abruptly as Ianto kissed him into silence.

-XXX-

"We're home, Ianto."

Now that, Ianto decided, was a very nice way to wake up. Jack's voice was accompanied by the press of lips against his temple and a sizeable dose of pheromones tingling its way through his lungs. And hearing Jack refer to the flat as 'home' warmed Ianto in ways that big strong Welshmen never admitted to. At least, not around emotionally-repressed fifty-first century Captains.

Ianto was still fighting sleep-heavy eyelids when a gust of cold air chilled his side and reminded him he'd fallen asleep in the car. With Jack driving. He really must have been exhausted.

"So are you gonna wake up or shall I just carry you inside?"

Ianto's eyes snapped open the rest of the way as Jack's arm slid beneath his knees. "Don't you dare," he huffed.

Unfortunately, scrambling out of the SUV with no assistance - except Jack's laughter - drained all the energy his short nap supplied and left him sagging onto the couch with a distinct lack of grace and his eyes already losing the battle to stay open. But it didn't matter. He was home. God-knew-how-far across space and time and back home for dinner. When, Ianto wondered with bemusement, did this become a normal day?

The couch dipped as Jack sank down next to him. "Are you still tired?"

Ianto yawned hugely. "Knackered," he admitted. He opened his eyes, which had squeezed completely shut during the yawn, to see Jack looking back at him with an odd expression. "What?"

"Just waiting for hell to freeze over," Jack answered. "That's the first time since you were injured that you've admitted to being tired."

Ianto dropped his head onto the back of the couch as thought about it. "First time you've asked," he pointed out.

"I asked all the time," Jack protested.

"You didn't ask me," Ianto insisted. "You told me." He raised a hand and started ticking points off on his fingers.

"You're tired, Ianto, get some sleep. You must be hungry, Ianto, eat this. Take these, Ianto, I can tell you're in pain." The atrocious attempt at an American accent grated on Jack's ears. He suddenly understood every one of Ianto's requests to 'stop mangling the Welsh language, Jack.'

"Whether I was or not," Ianto finished, thankfully using his own voice again. "Drove me crazy."

"So all that denial was just you being stubborn? Isn't that a bit childish?"

"Undoubtedly," Ianto agreed. "Then again, you _were_ treating me like a child, so what else could you expect?"

The pain in Jack's eyes registered an instant later and Ianto clamped his mouth shut against any further vemon that might spill out. He stroked Jack's hand in silent apology and moved into the arms that reached out to enfold him. "Martha said the steroids should be out of my system in a day or two," he added. "At which point I'll hopefully lose this foot-in-mouth tendency."

Jack's face cleared. "And what else did Martha say?"

"That I'm healing well but I should avoid heavy lifting and rest when I'm tired. Which I'm doing, see? Came home from work early and here I am flopping on the couch and letting _you_ make dinner."

Jack grinned. "Hint taken. And I promised you a reward if you did what the nice doctor told you, didn't I?"

Ianto yawned again. "You were going to stop being patronizing?" he suggested.

Jack chuckled, a low rumbling that Ianto could feel through the shoulder pressed against Jack's chest.

Ianto smiled. "Fireworks display, wasn't it? Didn't think you'd still want to go, given you got snatched by some yourself today."

Jack blinked. "Hadn't thought about it like that." He unwrapped himself from around Ianto and headed somewhat reluctantly for the kitchen. Pots and pans clattered as he dragged various items out of the cupboards. His voice drifted up from somewhere under the counter. "I'll make us something to eat. Then if you want to you can get a few hours sleep and we'll head over later if you're up to it. How's that sound?"

"Organised." Ianto answered, through another jaw-cracking yawn. "I'm impressed. You've got someone watching the Rift, you got us home without a speeding ticket, and now you're cooking. If you ever learn to make coffee you won't need me around anymore."

The tone was teasing, but the wistful words stung. Gwen's scolding from earlier today floated through Jack's mind. _"…. you need him. So for God's sake, Jack, stop pretending you don't, before you convince him."_

It was so damned annoying when Gwen was right.

"Don't ever say that, Ianto," Jack said, around the tightness in his throat. "I'll always need you." His voice broke slightly, but he forced the words out anyway. "Scares the hell out of me just how much."

Silence. Heart hammering. "Ianto? Say something, for shit's sake."

Still no response. Jack moved back out of the kitchen in slow motion, not sure what reaction to expect. Being dragged into the bedroom would probably be a preference. Another snog would be nice. Maybe a blush. An attempt to laugh it off, even. Discomfort. Denial. Actually, anything other than this deafening silence.

All he got was a snore. A polite, even musical 'caused by the head being at an awkward angle' snore.

Jack snickered at the anticlimax. Ianto was asleep again, slumped against the arm of the couch. Head sagging onto his chest, ridiculously long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, mouth the tiniest bit open. Should have realized, Jack thought, amusement coating a barely acknowledged sense of relief. The only time we ever say this stuff is when one of us is unconscious.

Oh well, some wise man said that actions speak louder than words, anyway.

**The next chapter should be the last. Fluff and angst and lots of making up...Hope you've enjoyed.**


	26. New Year part 14

**Err. Um, yes, not complete yet. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it kept growing and went somewhere I didn't expect. But it does tie off a loose end so I went with it (and I hope it worked).**

**But first, some truly soppy fluff, followed by fireworks (yes that sort too).**

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Ianto emerged onto the roof, but stopped so suddenly Jack cannoned into the back of him.

"We can't go up here," whispered Ianto, nudging Jack back into the stairwell. "Someone's got it all set up for a romantic rendezvous. We'll ruin it if we go barging in."

Jack sighed and made his way back onto the roof, dragging Ianto with him. "Check out the blanket, Ianto. Does it look familiar by any chance?"

Jack smirked as Ianto's jaw dropped. Literally dropped. "That's my…our…. Jack, did _you_ do this?"

Sentiment wasn't so bad, after all. Not when it made Ianto look at him like that.

Their heads turned at the faint popping sound of fireworks in the distance, heralding midnight. Jack gloated inwardly at the perfect timing and drew Ianto into his arms. Golden sparks flared across the inside of his eyelids and he tried to tell himself that it was only the afterimage of the fireworks in the sky.

"Happy New Year," Jack said softly, pulling away only enough to allow for speech.

"It is so far," Ianto answered.

"Come on, then," Jack added, tugging on the hand he still held. "I didn't do all that so we could stand here and look at it.

The blanket spread out on the rooftop was the spare Ianto hadn't needed since the portable furnace otherwise known as Jack started sharing his bed. The cushions scattered across the blanket used to decorate that same bed, before Jack started complaining about how much time they wasted putting them away.

"Nice to know you've found a use for them," Ianto commented, poking one of the cushions with his foot. Glowing points of light around the edges of the blanket caught his attention. "Why aren't those candles blowing out?"

Jack chuckled. "Because they're battery operated. Best I could do, it's windy up here and real candles wouldn't stay alight." He flopped down onto the cushions and looked back up at Ianto with a satisfied smile. "Care to join me down here?"

Ianto settled comfortably into Jack's arms and watched gold and silver diamonds burst over the bay. "This is nice," he commented.

"Nice," Jack repeated. "Hours, this took me. Lugging all this up the stairs and chasing the damned cushions when the wind got them and all I get is _nice_?"

"Very nice?" Ianto amended, vanishing beneath the cushions as Jack rolled onto him with a growl. "Ow, Jack, careful. Ribs still mending."

"Sorry," Jack said, backing off hastily. "I forgot."

"Thank God for that," Ianto responded. "I'm sick of you treating me like a pane of glass." His voice softened. "And thank you. Thank you for doing this…it's….."

"Nice," Jack finished, defeated.

"A hell of a lot of trouble to go to for a part-time shag," Ianto concluded.

"Full time," Jack corrected. "Twenty-four hour exclusive access." Which, the little voice inside him hissed, eliminates Mickey. Ha.

"That would be so reassuring if it wasn't coming from a time-traveller," Ianto said placidly.

Jack tapped his wristband. "Broken, remember?"

The laughed at each other as a series of rockets screeching across the sky had them both reaching for guns that weren't there.

"We have music too," Jack remembered, scrabbling around in the folds of their blanket. His hand emerged clutching the small radio that usually sat on a shelf in the bathroom, where it performed duets with Jack while he showered. "They're transmitting the musical accompaniment on BBC 2."

"Clever," Ianto approved. Something classical and booming – the 1812 Overture, he thought – sounded from the speakers in perfect accompaniment to an explosion of red and blue starbursts. "Very clever."

After a few moments of appreciation, Ianto returned to his explorations of the blanket. "I see we have a picnic basket."

"Stocked by yours truly with the assistance of Tesco," Jack supplied, "Since you fell asleep before I'd even started dinner."

Ianto frowned. "So all those complaints about 'you've slept too long we'll never make it back to the Bay before midnight', were just misdirection?"

"Yep," Jack agreed, sounding quite unbearably smug. "Gotcha, huh?"

Ianto swatted the arm twined around his waist. "I thought you were really disappointed."

Jack simply smirked - again. "I'm good, aren't I?"

Ianto arched an eyebrow. "Actually, you're bad, but you're good at it."

Something more modern sounded from the speakers while they explored that concept.

"Good and hungry, actually," Jack continued, when they stopped for air. "You?"

Ianto nodded. "I don't think I've eaten since breakfast." He reached for the basket, but Jack's hand closed over his before he got the cover open.

"When I said hungry," Jack murmured. "I wasn't actually talking about food." He slid down onto his back, pulling Ianto with him, breath catching as the sky around them lit with starbursts. Really, Jack congratulated himself, absolutely perfect timing.

"I see," Ianto answered, his eyes dancing in the candlelight. "But aren't we supposed to be watching the fireworks?"

"Make our own?" Jack suggested. A breathy sigh escaped his lips as he buried them in Ianto's neck.

"Corny," Ianto scolded.

"Yeah, well, I'm not thinking very straight at the moment," Jack admitted. "Lack of blood supply to the brain."

"Corny and tacky," Ianto added, as the echoes of his laughter drifted away across the roof. "And there _is _the small matter of being on a cold and windy roof."

"With a spare blanket," Jack countered triumphantly, pulling it out from under the cushions and draping it over them with a flourish.

"Your organization skills continue to overwhelm me," Ianto teased.

"Only my organization skills?" Jack protested.

"They're the only ones you're demonstrating at the moment."

"Just waiting for an invitation," Jack said, totally failing to sound coy.

"Did you not notice?" Ianto enquired. "That isn't a gun in my pocket anymore."

-XXX-

"I think we can conclude the steroids are on their way out," Jack said with satisfaction. The smoke from the fireworks wafted to them on the wind, adding the sharp taint of cordite to the cocktail of scents embedded in the threads of the blanket. At some point the musical accompaniment had changed from drums and cannons to soft voices and gentle melodies.

"Don't gloat, Jack," Ianto admonished. "Or at least gloat after you've fed me. Where's that basket gone?"

"I think I kicked it somewhere," Jack responded, feeling around with a foot. "Yep, knocked it over. Hang on." He slid briefly out from under the blanket, grabbed the handle of the picnic basket and retreated back into the warmth, his icy skin making Ianto help.

"It's cold out there," Jack explained, pressing closer to the warm body beside him.

"Put some clothes on then," Ianto answered, shivering even through his shirt. He slapped away a cold hand and delved into the basket.

"Kicked them away too," Jack admitted.

"Lucky for you I caught them," Ianto answered smugly. "They're under the blue cushion. Put something on while I sort out the food."

Golden orbs burst above them. Jack shuddered and snuggled closer to Ianto, hindering his explorations in the picnic basket. "Exactly what those Rift portals looked like," Jack explained. "Of course, you arrived in one too. Most welcome sight I've ever seen, and that's saying something."

Ianto tensed in his arms and the fact that Jack had re-dressed didn't stop him becoming cold again. Confusion swept him until he remembered what Ianto must have seen as he'd arrived to rescue them. Gwen, on Jack's lap. And he should have known, really, that Ianto couldn't just brush it off.

"Ianto…"

"Food," Ianto said firmly. He hunted through the basket. "You remembered plates, too. Very civilized. Here, you hold them and I'll fill them."

Jack dropped the plates onto the blanket. "Ianto, it was just…."

"I assume you want a bit of everything? What did you do with the plates? Honestly, it'd be much easier if you held them up, but never mind. Here you go, dig in."

Jack laid the plates carefully beside him. "Ianto, I can explain…."

"Did you pack anything to drink? There's glasses but….oh I see, right down the bottom…"

Jack clamped his hands around Ianto's wrists and wrenched him around to face him. "Damn it, Ianto. Listen to me."

"Let go," Ianto said, voice blunt.

"Sorry," Jack released his grip and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry, but you have to let me explain."

"If I must," Ianto said, voice neutral. The butler's mask had never been more irritating.

"When you found us, you and Mickey," Jack began awkwardly. "What you saw, that was just resuscitation. Nothing more."

"So she said," Ianto agreed. "And I'm not disputing it. But both of you seem to have forgotten that I know exactly what your particular form of resuscitation involves."

"It's the only method I know," Jack said defensively. "That's the way they do it in the 51st Century."

"And you've never bothered with our method because it's not as much fun," Ianto finished. "Fine. And I'm glad you saved Gwen, regardless of how. Explanation over and accepted. Can we eat now?"

Jack shifted uneasily. He should be relieved, but he wasn't. The food he'd spent so much time selecting had all the flavor of cardboard.

"Did you ever make stupid promises to fate, Jack?" Ianto asked. "Of the 'dear Santa please bring me a bike and I'll never mess up my bedroom again' variety?"

Jack nodded. "Sometimes," he admitted.

"I do that," Ianto mused. "I even keep them, sometimes. And when I realized you were gone, I promised myself – or fate, perhaps – that if you came back you could drool over Gwen all you liked and I wouldn't say a word. So this is me, not saying a word. I actually thought you'd appreciate it."

"I don't drool over Gwen!"

Ianto actually laughed. "Black jeans, red top," he said pointedly. "And those boots."

Jack bit his lip. "You did too," he said defensively.

Ianto sighed. "Fine. You don't drool over Gwen. You've never drooled over Gwen. Every incidence of said drooling exists purely in my imagination. Can we stop this now?"

Jack seethed inside. He knew he should take the out he was being offered, but he couldn't. He waved a hand across the roof while Pink told him via the radio that he was a tool. "I didn't do all this for Gwen, did I?"

Ianto's hands clenched around one of the bottles of mineral water Jack brought instead of alcohol. In deference to painkillers, no doubt. But the further evidence of careful consideration only served to tighten the knot currently fighting for space with the picnic food. Jack didn't do this sort of thing. Except, Ianto realized, when he was feeling guilty about something. There'd been that date after he'd come back from traveling with the Doctor. Dinner at the expensive French restaurant after reading his diary. That weekend away after Gwen's wedding. And between his insecurity and Jack's goading his promise not to say another word about Gwen vanished in a red mist.

"Why _did_ you do this, Jack? What are you trying to make up for? What else happened while you were in that cell?"

"Nothing, damn it! There's nothing between me and Gwen, there never has been, and there never will be."

They glared into each other's faces, as close now in their mutual rage as they had been in their mutual passion such a short time ago. The blanket fell away from their shoulders and Jack's eyes fell on the bruise he'd left on Ianto's neck, the hair disheveled from his grasping hands. He dropped back onto the cushions and buried his face in his hands, gasping in deep steadying breaths that were frighteningly close to sobs.

There was a final flurry in the sky as the fireworks display reached its climax. The radio announcer thanked them for listening and wished them all a safe and happy year before returning them to their usual programming.

Plates rattled as Ianto threw everything back into the basket.

Jack rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes, wondering how the hell it had gone so wrong so fast. "Where's all this coming from, Ianto?"

Ianto pointed silently to the radio, his face twisting into an expression of wry amusement. "It could almost be physic programming," he said. "Says it all, really."

_If you can't be, with the one you love, love the one you're with._

"No," Jack protested. "No Ianto…"

"You settled for me," Ianto said, so softly Jack had to strain his ears to hear. "I thought I could make it be enough, but I can't. Neither can you. And it breaks my heart watching you try."

"Ianto…don't….."

"I'm going back down to the flat, Jack. Give me some time, OK? Enjoy your roof for a while."

"I don't want…."

"It's not always about what you want, Jack. I didn't want to start this. I tried not to, but you wouldn't stop….and now I don't just_ want_ time. I _need_ it."

The door creaked shut behind him. The stupid song blared forth from the radio, and this time Jack did kick it off the roof.

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**Yeah, sorry about that. It will be fixed in the final chapter, kind of, mostly, and hey, Valentine's Day is the next holiday in the plan….**

**I don't know if Cardiff and BBC 2 ever participated in a fireworks display as described in this chapter. I based it on Melbourne's Stereo Skyshow which was awesome and unfortunately doesn't happen anymore.**


	27. New Year part 15

**OK, yes, still not complete. BUT it is taking me too long to get the conclusion the way I wanted, and I couldn't just leave them where they were. So here is part of it and the rest will be posted when I've beaten it into submission.**

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Ianto wiped the condensation off the bathroom mirror with a trembling hand. He stared at this own face, scrutinizing his features with an intensity last used as a teenager on his first date. Teenage years long gone, and thank all the fates for that, but he was still young and he looked it, apart from the eyes. Too young for wrinkles, too old for pimples. Clear skin then, roughened by a day's growth of stubble. He shaved in the mornings, usually, and he hadn't taken the time to shave again before going up to the roof. Jack liked stubble, anyway. Then again, Jack liked smooth skin, too.

In fact, there wasn't anything Jack _didn't_ like. Ianto rarely had occasion to question his own attractiveness, because Jack had the amazing ability to make whoever he was with feel….well, beautiful. Though that wasn't a word Ianto would use to describe himself, even under torture. And he knew that for a fact, because Jack had tried.

Ianto opened the bathroom door, slowly, letting it creak before he stepped through into the bedroom, fearing and hoping that Jack was already back. But the bed was empty and the flat was silent. Ianto told himself he should be pleased Jack had respected his request for time alone. He _would _be pleased, except for the possibility of Jack seizing on it as an excuse not to return at all.

The full length mirror on the wardrobe door invited him to continue his scrutiny. Ianto tossed his towel back into the bathroom and swept his eyes along his reflection. Most of the bruising was gone now, faded even since this morning, revealing the network of scars beneath. But it wasn't the evidence of past injury his eyes searched for now. Now, this moment, he looked for a reason why the eternally gorgeous Jack Harkness would want to come back to him, to this. To a body going soft around the middle, the legacy of a take-away diet that no amount of Weevil hunting could balance.

When he'd first gone to Jack's bed, he'd been underweight, still recovering from the aftermath of Lisa. He'd never been heavily muscled, but the absence of body fat had brought what muscles there were into prominence. He'd looked good, if thin, and he remembered the sense of insecurity that accompanied the returning weight as it softened the lines of bone and muscle. The memory of Jack's unfeigned joy at 'finally having something to hang on to' made him smile, even now.

Ianto sighed and pulled the mirror aside, searching the wardrobe behind it for something to wear to bed. The spare blanket was still on the roof, and he couldn't be sure his portable furnace would be there to keep him warm tonight.

-XXX-

The flat was silent as Jack entered. Ianto had left the kitchen light on and the small gesture of welcome sent such a powerful wave of relief through Jack's body that his legs literally went weak. He dumped an armload of cushions onto the couch and sank down beside them, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this.

Jack let his head drop back, fitting perfectly into the dent in the headrest, remembering precious laughter-filled nights. Remembering the simple joy of just sitting here, the television tuned to the news as an excuse to laze on the couch together. Being normal, being together, and being safe. Ianto made him feel safe in ways no one else knew he needed. Safe to be Jack, a man who made mistakes and didn't always know best, instead of the enigmatic invincible flirting machine the rest of the world seemed to expect. And he'd risked that for the sake of a few adoring glances from a woman securely in love with her husband.

The empty picnic basket rebuked him from the kitchen counter. The symbol of a night that should have been a new beginning but had degenerated into something frighteningly close to an ending. No one to blame but himself, because Ianto was right, Jack only ever went out of his way when he had something to make up for. As if one night of consideration could make up for months of neglect. How could he possible have missed the fact that he'd made Ianto feel second best?

Only Ianto had never said anything, never gave the slightest indication he was unhappy with the way things were. And he'd even said, not long ago, that he knew Gwen would never leave Rhys for Jack, and a kick in the ego that had been, too. Even if it was perfectly correct. No, Jack told himself, it wasn't his fault, not completely. Ianto should have said something if he was unhappy.

The tiny spark of self-righteous indignation flared and died instantly. Of course Ianto hadn't said anything. Ianto never asked for anything, never made any demands. Probably assumed, with the justification of past knowledge, that Jack would back away if he started making demands. So he just gave, and Jack took, and maybe now, tonight, he'd reached the limit.

Jack brushed his hand along the couch, wondering if this would be his bed tonight. He wasn't coward enough to stay out here without being asked, but he wouldn't fight it if Ianto wanted solitude. And with no Ianto to keep him safe and warm, he'd need that blanket. Jack forced himself back to his feet and returned to the roof.

Ianto heard the door open. He listened to the small sounds of Jack moving around the flat with his heart slamming against his ribs. When the door opened a second time he stretched a hand across to the other side of the bed and pulled Jack's pillow into his arms. As the door clicked shut again, Ianto buried his face in the pillow and hoped the tears wouldn't wash away the pheromones that clung to the case.

-XXX-

Ianto was still staring wide-eyed at the ceiling when he heard the key rattle in the lock once again. He threw Jack's pillow back into place, tear-soaked side down, and rolled quickly onto his side. The other entry to the bathroom opened, the shower ran. Ianto curled in on himself and made any number of stupid promises to fate if only Jack would exit the bathroom via the bedroom door.

It worked. Ianto tried to remember all the things he'd promised just to stop himself from crying again. Bloody pathetic, this was.

The bed creaked as Jack lowered himself in, keeping stiffly to his side. Ianto chewed on his lip and decided that if Jack had gone this far it was up to him to make the next move. He stretched an arm out behind him. If this was going to be a breakup, at least it could be a gentle one.

Fingers curled around his, trembling every bit as much as his own. "Yan?"

He'd never liked that nickname, but the ragged voice made it sound beautiful. He rolled towards the hand that tugged on his, meeting eyes as swollen as his own.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back," Ianto said, proud of the steadiness in his voice.

"Wasn't sure you'd let me stay," Jack answered.

"It's your place too," Ianto said. "Even has your name on the deeds."

Jack cleared his throat. "I don't need that," he said. "I've never needed that, Ianto, I…."

"It's OK," Ianto interrupted, wanting to get the words out before his throat closed up. Breaking up while holding hands in bed was a new one. He tried to get his hand free, but Jack's grip was too tight. "I doubt they've been submitted to the titles office yet," he babbled, still trying to free his hand. "But…um… you've given Mickey your bunker, so….you can stay here tonight, if you want, well, stay as long as you need …and…"

"You want me to leave?" Jack said blankly.

The world stopped. Or maybe it was just his brain. "You want the contracts back," Ianto said weakly. "Why else?"

"If you'd let me finish a sentence," Jack growled, "I was going to say, I don't need my name on the God-damned paperwork to know that this is my home. With...with you."

Ianto had his arms around Jack's waist before he was even aware of moving. And it didn't matter that he was crying again, because Jack was too, silently, just like him, a matter of leaking eyes rather than sobs, and it didn't make them weak, either of them.

"We should go back out," Jack said eventually, voice strained, unwinding himself from Ianto's arms with every sign of reluctance. "I doubt you're any more likely to get to sleep than I am, not 'til we've got this sorted." His hand traced a path down Ianto's spine. "And it's too easy to get distracted if we're in bed." The edge of amusement in his voice didn't detract from the truth. If they stayed here, they'd ignore the making up in favor of the makeup sex. And they both knew it would be more out of a desire to avoid the issues than desire for each other.

Jack rolled out of bed and extended a hand, leading Ianto back into the lounge, where the stack of cushions now filled the couch and spilled over onto the floor. "You brought them back," Ianto noted, adding to the pile on the floor as he cleared a space for himself.

"And the blanket," Jack added, folding it and draping it over the back of the couch. "In case you threw me out of bed."

"Does anyone ever throw you out of bed?" Ianto asked curiously.

"Always a first time," Jack answered.

The smiles were tentative, but they _were_ smiles.

A good start, but smiles don't do much to fill the silence.

**As I said, more in the works. I should stop promising the next one is the last, because the boys just keep running off with the plot…..oh well, hope you liked it anyway.**


	28. New Year part 16

**So we come to the end. Apparently I promised triple-strength fluff, so here's my best attempt. Hope it worked. **

The smiles faded. The silence shrieked.

"I'm not good at this," Ianto grumbled.

"I've been lousy at it for longer than you've been alive," Jack countered gloomily.

Ianto smiled faintly. "Any chance of putting it all down to the steroids?" he asked hopefully.

Humor was their refuge, always had been. Jack shook his head. "Nope. Just you and me. In this room. For as long as it takes."

Ianto nearly laughed. "That wasn't funny the first time you said it, Jack."

Humor was how they hid from the truth. Not this time.

"Made you smile though," Jack said sadly. "Nearly made you laugh. I haven't done that much, lately." His fists clenched as the memory of Ianto laughing with Mickey seared through him again, but this time the flood of unaccustomed jealousy brought realization in its wake. This, exactly this, was how he'd made Ianto feel, every time he'd soothed his own ego by flirting with Gwen.

If he didn't fix this now, he might never have the chance. Would have been nice to have the slightest idea of how, but that had never stopped him before.

"Ianto," he began awkwardly, fighting the sense he was digging a hole to drop himself into. "Gwen and I in that cell - nothing happened, I swear, well nothing apart from what you saw. And that was….."

"Resuscitation," Ianto finished. "I know Jack. You've both told me and I do believe you, really." His head tipped to a side, his expression enquiring. "Though it does raise the question of what you were making up for."

"New Year's resolution number one," Jack said, exasperated. "Jack will stop being the type of person who only does thoughtful things after he's stuffed up."

"That might help," Ianto agreed. "But…"

Jack raised a hand, counting off points on his fingers. "I bullied you into the Tardis when you didn't want to go. You almost died as a direct result of that. I fed you greasy takeaway chicken for Christmas dinner, and by all accounts I've spent the last week driving you insane. Does none of that qualify as something I might need to make up for?"

He'd missed that laugh. How he'd missed it. "Can we stop now?" Ianto asked plaintively.

"Not quite," Jack said. "And that No Sentiment rule?"

"What about it?" Ianto asked suspiciously.

"Suspended," Jack announced. He laid a hand on either side of Ianto's face, and trapped his eyes with his own. "I didn't settle for you, Ianto. I chose you."

Ianto's eyes slid shut. No more tears, he ordered himself. Jack was trying so hard to make this right. It wasn't a lie, not completely, not if he accepted that being chosen by default was better than not being chosen at all. And hadn't he been accepting that very thing for months now?

Jack watched Ianto's eyelids flutter closed. Much better, he thought confidently. Now comes the making up. Which I'm _sooo_ much better at than the talking. He leaned closer, savoring the breath that fluttered against his mouth.

A tear leaked from beneath the closed lid.

That wasn't good.

Ianto screwed his eyes more tightly shut, but the treacherous tear escaped anyway. "Don't, Jack," he whispered, pushing Jack's hands away from his face and retreating to the far end of the couch, eyes still tightly closed. "Don't lie to me anymore."

Jack's heart beat unevenly. "It's the truth," he insisted. Oh, the irony. Winning people over with honeyed lies never failed, but try telling the truth and just watch everything go to hell.

The single tear wound its way down a flawless cheek. Worse than anger, worse than sobbing. Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to panicking. Not recently, certainly. Not even facing execution – this morning?

His words tumbled over each other. "I chose to come back to you, Ianto. I wanted to be with you. Hell, I could have stayed with the Doctor, but I came back. I told you so, don't you remember?"

Jack remembered. He remembered Ianto's eyes had flicking away after he'd said it. Remembered his gut churning as he wondered whether the evasion was embarrassment or rejection. The subsequent 'All of you' was part truth, part cover-up. He'd assumed Ianto understood, especially after agreeing to that bumbling invitation to a date.

Ianto's eyes opened. The usually expressive pools of blue were dull and flat. "For all of you, you said." His voice matched the eyes. "Not just me. All of you."

So he hadn't understood. All this time, he hadn't understood. And he hadn't said a word. Jack let his sense of injury have full rein. "I put myself out there," he said, "Told you I came back for you, in front of everyone, and what do you do? You look away. So OK, I ran off without a word, maybe I deserved the cold shoulder, or maybe you were embarrassed, but don't burn me for trying to cover my ass."

Ianto was suddenly aware of how carefully he was breathing. Aware that he was about to tear his world apart. The carefully constructed world of turning a blind eye and pretending everything was good, pretending it was enough.

"You said it to Gwen, too. Later. I heard you."

"You heard me," Jack repeated, casting his mind back again. Another memory, clear and damning. A foolish moment, a dream, a stroke to his ego. A mistake, coming back to bite him. He frowned. "But you were OK when I asked you out. You said yes."

"Not that night," Ianto clarified. "I didn't hear you that night. It was later. Weeks later, spot checking the CCTV quality." His eyes dropped. "I shouldn't have listened, I knew I shouldn't have. I wish I hadn't."

"But Ianto, that was before…"

Ianto's hand fell across his mouth, silencing him. Jack fought the impulse to kiss it.

"Before you knew she was engaged. Before you asked me out. Before you settled for me 'cause you couldn't have her."

It hurt. Gut wrenching, guilt-inducing hurt. Ianto believed that, because he'd never given him a reason to believe otherwise, while still managing to supply fuel for the illusion. Ianto's hand lay heavy on Jack's mouth, and this time he kissed it, because he was so much better at talking that way. A silent apology, a plea for understanding.

The hand dropped away as though his lips burnt. But it was OK, he needed his mouth free anyway. "Will you let me explain, Ianto?" Jack knew his voice was shaking, he could hear it, feel the tremor in his throat, but for once he didn't give a damn about the impression he was making.

No answer, no permission, but no further withdrawal either. Enough hope in that to bring the legendary Harkness confidence trickling back. He could do this. He could convince him. He had to. The alternative didn't bear thinking about. Besides, there had to be something to this truth business.

Truth. Jack sighed. He really didn't want to admit this, not even to himself, let alone out loud. But during the year hanging from chains, every dream of finding safety in welcoming Welsh arms had its counterpart in a nightmare of rejection. "That wasn't settling, Ianto. It was insurance."

Ianto's head shot up. "What?"

Jack shrugged. He felt foolish. He _was_ foolish. "An attempt to hedge my bets. Food for the ego." This time it was Jack who couldn't meet the enquiring eyes. Everyone who'd told him his ego was big enough to be its own person was absolutely right. "A pathetic attempt to sound her out in case you didn't want me."

"Jack!" There was disbelief in the tone now. And accusation, and _life._

How about that? The truth thing worked after all.

"Do you have any idea long it'd been since I'd asked anyone out on a date?" Jack demanded, his heart skipping idiotically as he watched the shine come back into Ianto's eyes. "I lost track of how many times I rehearsed what I'd say to you, and I _still_ made a hash of it."

"It worked though," Ianto commented. Had he moved into Jack's arms, or had Jack pulled him into them? It wasn't important. All that mattered were the words being grumbled against his neck.

"You turned me into a babbling idiot," Jack continued fretfully. "Without the assistance of alien tech, even."

Ianto laughed. "I didn't do anything," he protested.

"I said 'officey feel,' for Gods sake," Jack moaned, playing it up and loving it. Loving….him.

"And there was that reference to butt-photocopying," Ianto added helpfully.

"No, butt photocopying is good," Jack insisted. "Well, depending on the butt. Now, this butt." He paused to grab and grinned wildly at the resulting yelp, "Would definitely enhance any photocopier it sat on."

-XXX-

"I hurt you," Jack said later, his worlds muffled slightly by the fact he was talking into the smooth planes of Ianto's chest. He knew Ianto heard every word. The heart thudding steadily beneath his cheek accelerated. The hand moving soothingly through his hair paused.

It was time for speech again though. They'd exhausted all the ways of speaking without words.

"All week I've been annoying the hell out you, trying to spare you pain; and I've been hurting you for months."

"I let you," Ianto said. His hand resumed its path through Jack's hair.

Jack rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow so he could look into Ianto's face. Into eyes glowing silver-grey in the moonlight cascading through the windows. When he'd first started sleeping here, he remembered, the blinds were closed every night. Jack hadn't asked Ianto to leave them open after all those years beneath Cardiff. Hadn't needed to.

"You let me," Jack repeated. "Why?"

Ianto's eyes shifted to the ceiling, seeking answers from the single cobweb that clung to the light fitting. "I think you know why, Jack."

Oh yeah. They didn't say that bit. Not in so many words. Not in three words. Maybe one would do.

Jack placed a hand gently where his head had been, feeling the hammering beat. "Mine?" he asked. A few weeks ago it wouldn't have been a question. A few days ago, even.

Ianto's eyes closed, his throat moved jerkily. "Yours," he agreed, on a breath, on a whisper.

Jack's hand moved to grasp Ianto's, laying it where his own heart rattled against his ribs. "Yours," he said firmly.

Ianto's eyes slammed open, a thousand questions written in blue.

Jack squeezed the hand within his own. "Yours," he repeated; forcing the words through a throat suddenly dry. "Say it for me."

The scrape of nails across his chest as the hand flattened out, caressing, claiming. "Mine."

* * *

**Hope that was OK. I have to admit I rewrote it so many times I've completely lost judgment on it. **

**I'm plotting a Valentine's Day arc, more fun, less angst than this one. Won't start posting for a while though...**

** Happy New Year!**


	29. New Year's Day

**Short fluffy bridge between New Year's & Valentines Day arcs. I needed fluff!**

Jack woke first, as he usually did. But this morning he didn't have to worry about sneaking out without waking Ianto. No rift alarm. No alarm at all, not even the bedside-table one. Which, he noted with annoyance, was due to sound in three minutes. Jack leaned over, careful not to disturb the slumbering figure beside him, and saved this particular piece of the Earth from the threat of breakfast radio. Misson accomplished, he sank back onto the pillows, feeling indecently indulgent as he enjoyed a view that improved by the second. His movement had already disturbed the sheets, and it was quite a show watching the fabric lose the battle with gravity as it slipped from Ianto's shoulders, fraction by glorious fraction.

An undisturbed sleep, a peaceful awakening and an uninterrupted ogle. Bliss. The first day of a new year and it was beginning well.

The only sour note was he owed it all to Mickey for offering to watch the Rift until they came in. Mickey, already more Ianto's friend than his own. Mickey, who was young like Ianto. Mickey, who made Ianto laugh. Jack's gut churned lightly and he took firm hold of his wayward thoughts. This was not a morning to encourage the emergence of the green-eyed demon he'd kept imprisoned for so long.

This morning Ianto could sleep until he wasn't tired any more, an almost unheard of luxury. And this morning Jack could watch for as long as he wanted to. One of life's simple pleasures, treasured through its scarcity.

Admittedly, Jack did take every available opportunity to watch Ianto, especially in the last weeks. Asleep, awake, all states in between. Storing up as many memories as he could, against the time when memories were all he'd have.

Until last night, he'd thought the only way he'd ever lose Ianto was through the fact of his mortality. He'd never seriously considered the thought that Ianto – that anyone, really – would leave _him_ voluntarily, or not that exactly, but because they just couldn't be with him anymore.

Jack usually _did_ the leaving. Still, that was sorted now. Wasn't it?

The train of thought derailed as Ianto obligingly rolled onto his back in his sleep. Hardly any evidence now of the injuries sustained just over a week ago. And oh, that bed hair. Deliciously ruffled on one side and flattened to his head on the other from being pressed into the pillow. So un-groomed, so un-Ianto.

Only Jack got to see him like this. His Ianto. His. An unaccustomed possessiveness washed through him, completely different to the awkward strains of jealousy. Not a case of grasping at what was his, so much as a greedy storing up each precious moment. Jack's hand crept to the place it had occupied through most of the night, sliding through the light sprinkling of chest hair to rest lightly where he could feel Ianto's heart beating beneath his palm.

Mine, Yours. Jack remembered the intensity of exchanging those words with their hands pressed over each other's hearts and tried to pin down the memory it stirred. He'd watched someone else do that…it had been significant, too, and he could almost remember why….

"It's still there," Ianto mumbled, eyes still tightly closed.

"I prefer to confirm the evidence for myself," Jack answered, feeling the strand of memory slip away again. Surely it couldn't be that important, especially not in comparison to an armful of warm and hopefully willing Welshman.

"Still beating, still yours, and on that note I hereby reinstate the ban on sentiment," Ianto concluded, mouth curving into a smile even while his eyes struggled against the assault of bright morning sunlight.

"What's wrong with a bit of sentiment on a morning like this?" Jack demanded.

"Too girly," Ianto scoffed. His eyes opened fully, suspiciously clear for someone who'd just woken up.

"How long have you been awake?" Jack demanded.

Ianto yawned. "Not long. An assault of morning breath or pheromones when you leaned across me."

Jack decided to ignore the insult in favor of solving the minor mystery.

"And you pretended to be asleep because…?"

"Because you wanted me to," Ianto finished, reaching up in something that began as a stretch, evolved into an embrace, and ended with one arm around Jack's waist, and the other behind his neck. An economy of movement which Jack appreciated wordlessly, because everyone told him it was rude to speak with your mouth full.

There was something wrong with the answer though. Another item to consider later. When he was less occupied. When his brain was working. The _other _brain.

Oh yes, this was a good way to start the year.

**With my humble hopes that you are now curious about where this is going. Thanks for reading!**


	30. Valentine's Day 1

**I did say this arc would be light and fluffy, didn't I? It's Australia Day tomorrow, consider this the fic version of pavlova. I'm sure there'll be a smattering of angst, but not yet.**

**

* * *

**

"Definitely morning breath," Ianto concluded.

Jack rolled away; laughing with whatever breath – morning or otherwise –left in his lungs. Quiet little Ianto was a sick man in ways Jack had no intention of curing, but he definitely couldn't be classed as an invalid anymore. "You wound me," Jack answered dramatically.

"You'll heal," Ianto answered. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Jack leered. Ianto slapped his hands away. "Greedy!" he scolded.

"I've just got a healthy appetite," Jack protested, watching with unaccustomed contentment as Ianto fought his way out of the cocoon of bed-sheet and duvet. It'd been so long since they'd had either the time or the inclination for this sort of silliness, and he hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"Which has been amply fed already," Ianto admonished. "And we need to get into work. Mickey's been in the Hub alone all night."

Mickey. Good old Mickey. Ianto's new best friend. Jack bit his tongue against the retort that wanted to slip out. Ianto needed friends. There was a Tosh-shaped hole in Ianto's life, and if Mickey had begun to fill that void, Jack should be glad, not…this. He was being ridiculous. Jealousy was a ridiculous emotion, and pointless, too. Especially in this case, because Jack knew he wouldn't have protested if Ianto had said exactly the same thing about Gwen. But the new-born demon inside Jack reminded him that Gwen hadn't spent hours yesterday in the armory with Ianto. Gwen hadn't made Ianto laugh in a way Jack hadn't done for months.

Gwen didn't make Jack feel old.

Ianto's leap out of bed ended in a gasp, with his hand pressing against his side. Unfortunately for Jack's ogling prospects, the hand wasn't quite big enough to cover the discoloration above the recently-cracked ribs. "I'm OK," Ianto insisted, dodging Jack's anxious grab. "Just forgot about the ribs. Moved too fast." He forced a pained smile. "Shows they're healing well, if I can forget there's anything wrong, doesn't it?"

Jack dropped his arms and fought down the wave of protectiveness. Between that and the stupid jealousy thing he was going to ruin this rare peaceful morning, and surely that was the last thing he wanted. The first thing he wanted, however, was to wrap his lover in his arms, hell, in cotton wool and bubble wrap, and hide him away where nothing could find him. Especially not ripped young men who made him laugh.

But, as Ianto had reminded him forcibly the night before, it wasn't always about what Jack wanted. For the first time in a century, it wasn't about what Jack wanted.

Which was precisely why he'd warned himself not to feel this way again. About anyone. Too bloody late now. Not that he'd undo it. This way lay madness, but it was a _good_ madness, and sanity never made him this happy anyway.

Ianto stopped just out of arms reach, brow furrowed in response to whatever he'd seen in Jack's face. Ianto always knew when Jack was uneasy about something, and Jack had long ago given up wondering how. "I do appreciate it, you know," Ianto said quietly. "That you want to look after me, I mean. It's just…...different."

Jack extended a hand, palm up. Not grabbing, not grasping, just inviting the smallest of intimacy, releasing a hardly-there sigh as Ianto's hand dropped into his own. He smiled up into the blue pools that showed all the uncertainty Ianto would never voice. Ianto's face seldom gave anything away, but his eyes spoke volumes, and Jack understood every word. Assuming he made the effort, of course.

"Different how?" Jack prompted.

Ianto shrugged. "It wasn't so long ago you sent me after the bloke who'd just had a gun to my head."

Jack looked back incredulously. "Only 'cause I knew he was out of bullets," he protested.

Ianto's eyes widened. Jack rarely had his lover at a loss for words, and it would have been funny if the reason for it hadn't just ripped a hole somewhere in the vicinity of Jack's heart. Further evidence of what an arse he'd been, all these months. "You really thought it didn't bother me, huh?" Jack asked.

"I thought you were being professional," Ianto corrected. He squeezed Jack's hand then released it and headed for the bathroom. Jack watched the retreating form with a sense of reprieve. And appreciation, of course, given that Ianto hadn't taken the sheet with him.

"Put your eyes back in their sockets," Ianto called over his shoulder, not even looking around. "Then get your lazy butt out of bed and start getting ready for work."

Jack sighed. Duty called, and it used Ianto's voice, damn it. "I don't suppose I can help with anything?" he offered, fully expecting an irritated. "I'll be fine." The only time Ianto _didn't_ resist assistance was when he was unconscious.

Ianto turned at the doorway, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. If Jack had entertained the thought that Ianto was unaware of his internal struggle, that not-quite-smile dismissed the illusion. Sneaky little Welshman knew everything.

"I might need a hand washing my back," Ianto suggested.

Jack grinned and commenced the battle with the bed-sheets tangled around his legs. No, it wasn't all about what Jack wanted. But, on reflection, it might not be so difficult to change the habit of several lifetimes. Not if this was an example of the associated reward system.

Jack paused in his undignified scramble to the bathroom. He could almost hear Owen scoffing. A bittersweet smile twisted his lips, one that would have brought a concerned arch to Ianto's eyebrows, had he still been in the room. It had taken months, but Jack could finally remember the cynical medic without crippling waves of guilt, and it felt good. So, Owen would sneer and accuse Jack of being – oh what was that word he used – whipped. Yeah, whipped. He'd said that about Rhys countless times, just to get a reaction from Gwen. 'Under the thumb' was his other favorite.

Jack remembered when Rhys walked into the pub just in time to hear it. And sent them all into fits by grabbing Gwen's hand and pressing it to his own forehead hard enough to leave a momentary mark. "And loving it," he'd announced.

Rhys Williams was a wise man.

* * *

**So is this going to be unremitting fluff or I am just getting them lulled into a false sense of security before I pull the rug out from under them...(I'd do the evil laugh thing but I'm no good at it.)  
**Happy Australia Day to all the other Aussies out Aussie Aussie. Oy Oy Oy.


	31. Valentine's Day 2

**Hi everyone. Sorry this has taken so long, I'm having a bit of trouble dragging this story in the right direction. Getting lost in all the fluff, I think. I've had to prune some of it.**

Jack's phone shrilled halfway through a stack of toast. Ianto sighed and began clearing away the remains of breakfast. It wasn't so bad. They'd had a leisurely morning by Torchwood standards. Expecting to finish breakfast as well was probably asking too much of the universe.

Jack dropped the phone and grinned at Ianto. "Bring my toast back," he demanded. "That was Mickey. Everything's quiet and Gwen's just arrived. No need to rush."

Ianto's eyes widened. "Gwen? What's she doing in so early New Year's Day? I thought she had some huge romantic night planned with Rhys."

Jack snickered. "She cooked up a storm apparently. Then she fell asleep while Rhys was cleaning up. Didn't even make it to midnight."

Ianto groaned. "That's two days in a row she's beaten me in. I'll never live this down."

Jack's eyes narrowed. He was getting better at hearing what Ianto didn't say, and that sentence _hadn't _said something quite significant.

"You're not competing with Gwen, Ianto," he said firmly. "Not for anything."

Ianto blinked as though he didn't have a thought behind those blue eyes. "I didn't say I was," he answered mildly. "But if she keeps this up, she's going to start trying to make her own coffee."

Jack eyed him uncertainly, not sure whether he should push, fairly sure that he didn't want to, because due to decades of avoidance he really wasn't good at this sort of thing. But he was also, annoyingly, _absolutely_ sure that he really _should _if he didn't want to risk having them slide back into the pit of confusion they'd recently dragged themselves clear of.

Ianto's innocent mask dissolved into a boyish, joyful grin that Jack wanted to see more of – unless it was another mask designed to keep Jack from probing any deeper, and surely Ianto wasn't that devious, and anyway it was too early in the morning for such deep thinking.

The human mind is very good at justifying what it wants to do, even better at making excuses for avoiding what it _doesn't _want to do, and Jack's mind had centuries of practice to fall back on.

And Ianto's smile really was quite irresistible. Jack grinned back at him and followed the path of least resistance.

"I hate it when she tries to make her own coffee," Ianto confided impishly. "Takes me days to get the machine clean, and I have to drink what she makes as well." He shuddered. "And pretend I like it, too."

Jack laughed with him. But at the back of his mind he couldn't help wondering how much more it would take to win back the trust he'd let erode all these months. And if there was any way of speeding up the process. For a man with all of eternity before him, Jack wasn't really much for patience.

"Don't be too smug about it," Ianto concluded. "She's on a roll now. She's bound to make you some, too."

Jack winced and hurriedly finished the rest of his breakfast.

-XXX-

Mickey had cleverly requested tea, which meant Gwen hadn't touched the coffee machine. Ianto bustled off to rectify their caffeine deprived state while Mickey related events of the night, during which he'd responded, alone, to two separate alerts.

Jack eyed him with annoyance. "Your orders were to call me."

Mickey smiled broadly. "Nah, I'm used to working alone. Besides, we independent contractors prefer to assess the situation for ourselves."

Gwen chuckled. "You should get him on the books, Jack. Can't have independent thinking in Torchwood, can we?"

Gwen turned the full force of her most endearing gap-toothed smile on Mickey. Jack silently absorbed the evidence that the remaining member of his team had joined the Mickey Smith fan-club. He wondered if this qualified as a mutiny and had to concede that it probably didn't. He liked Mickey too, after all.

Mickey smiled back and turned to Jack. "I didn't want to ruin your night off, Jack," he explained. His eyes flickered meaningfully towards the kitchen while his mouth curved into a soft smile that set the nasty demon within Jack back in its place. Mickey might have sidestepped an order, but he'd done it to give his friends a quiet night together which they'd desperately needed. Jack dredged for the gratitude he ought to be feeling and damned near found some.

But then….."Oi mate, careful, you'll burn yourself." And Mickey was gone, off towards the kitchen, relieving Ianto of two of the four mugs he was carrying in his hands, fingers twined precariously around the handles. And the demon twisted its claws in Jack's gut because Ianto _let_ him, without a word of protest. With a smile of thanks, even.

Mickey returned, handed Gwen one mug, took a deep swallow from the second and grinned appreciatively at the taste.

"Someone's made off with my tray," Ianto explained, handing a mug to Jack with a soothing and quite deliberate brush of fingers. Jack sipped and quelled the childish impulse to produce a better reaction than Mickey.

"Sorry, that was me. ," Gwen confessed. "I made us some tea." She waved her spare hand vaguely. "Left the tray on the coffee table."

"I would've called if I needed backup," Mickey said, picking up the thread of the interrupted discussion. "But it was easy, both times. The first alert was just a couple of Weevils. Out celebrating, I reckon. They bolted for the sewers when they saw the SUV. And the second was a resettled Vinvocci that got drunk and let her shimmer malfunction. Everyone around just thought she was on her way home from a fancy dress party. I only had to Retcon one bloke, someone she snogged while the shimmer was off. Not that he was complaining about the prehensile tongue, mind….."

"I checked the file when I got in," Gwen put in, when the laughter died down. "It was Tamara. Her ship crashed through the rift last year, remember?"

Jack nodded. "Took to Earth quite well, as I recall," he said.

"Too well," Ianto said darkly. "You might have to have a word with her, Jack. She's getting a bit fond of Earth alcohol, but she's got no tolerance for it. The proverbial one-pot screamer, she is. I've already had to bail her out of lockup for disturbing the peace."

"What makes you think I'd qualify as an AA counselor for alien residents?" Jack demanded.

"Experience?" Ianto suggested.

Another alert sounded amidst the fresh wave of laughter.

"That's the same co-ordinates as those Weevils last night," Mickey announced.

"Splott," Gwen sighed. "It's always bloody Splott."

"I keep telling you, it's pronounced Sploe," Ianto insisted.

"Only by the people who live there," Gwen parried.

Mickey looked slightly confused at the byplay. "In joke," Jack explained.

"Which you'll soon understand if you let us recruit you," Gwen added, looking expectantly towards Jack, waiting for him to support her suggestion. Mickey would be a great addition to the team.

Jack was saved from answering when Mickey shook his head firmly. "Told you, I like being independent. I wouldn't mind recruiting you lot, though." He grinned at Ianto, who simply grinned back.

"Quit the poaching," Jack told him firmly. "They're mine."

Gwen smirked. "You might want to suggest a pay rise to hang onto us then," she said, throwing Jack a teasing smile which froze on her lips as she saw Jack's expression.

"We've got an alert to attend," Jack said sharply, striding towards the Rift monitor. "Sploe, or Splott, or whatever the hell you want to call it. And if it's the same pair Mickey ran off last night, they're after something and they'll keep coming out."

Jack turned back to see both Gwen and Ianto looking at him expectantly. But he didn't need them both, not just for two Weevils. It'd be best to take Mickey, actually, given he'd already covered the first alert, but Mickey wasn't Torchwood. Mickey had made it clear he didn't want to join Torchwood. He was probably itching to be on his way back to London, so it was better not to start relying on him. It had nothing to do with wanting as much distance between him and Ianto as possible.

Jack sighed, cleared his head, put all emotion away, and made a decision.

"Gwen, with me," he ordered. "Ianto, you can get Mickey's fees sorted while we're out."

"Of course, Sir," Ianto answered promptly. He found the tray, loaded the empty mugs onto it, and took them and his doubts back into the kitchen.

Jack's eyes followed him, admiring the view as Ianto retreated towards the kitchen. He'd expected resistance, but of course Ianto understood. Ianto wasn't fit for hauling unconscious Weevils around, and this way he got to spend a bit longer with his new best friend. Before he left on the three-hour trip to London. Long drive, that was. The sooner Mickey was on his way the better.

Jack turned cheerfully to Mickey, actually feeling virtuous. "You've been great, Mickey. I hope we can call on you again if we need you."

"Anytime," Mickey answered absently. But he wasn't looking at Jack. He was watching Ianto's rigid back retreating towards the kitchen, and wondering what the hell Jack thought he was doing. Ianto had done some great field work yesterday. A sinful waste of resources, keeping him hidden away in the Hub, even if he did make the best coffee Mickey had ever tasted. And Mickey really did need some back up in the field himself. His fledgling business wouldn't get too far as a one-man show.

Jack followed the direction of Mickey's eyes, finally noticing the tension screaming from the ramrod straight spine that he'd been too smug to see before. He released a muffled oath and followed Ianto into his sanctum.

Mickey's eyes met Gwen's questioning gaze with one of his own, but the only answer they had for each other was a shrug.

Jack reached the kitchen and kicked the door shut behind him.

Gwen sighed. "They were doing so well," she said.

"And he calls me the idiot," Mickey agreed, shaking his head.

-XXX-

What's wrong with me? Ianto asked himself angrily, as mugs clashed against each other in the sink with more force than was strictly necessary.

All right, things between him and Jack had been rocky for a while, but they'd sorted it. Maybe Jack hadn't denied his attraction to Gwen, but hell, Ianto wouldn't have believed it if he had. And he'd chosen Ianto over her, promised there'd be no-one else while they were together. Which was far more commitment than he ever expected from Jack. So why was he hiding in the kitchen because Jack had decided to take Gwen on a Weevil hunt?

Ianto wouldn't allow himself to turn around as footsteps approached the kitchen, so he couldn't help the startled jump fizzing through his muscles as the door slammed shut. Arms snaked around his waist and the magnetic scent of Jack flooded his senses. Ianto didn't know whether to be grateful Jack had seen his need for reassurance, or humiliated by the evidence he'd made it so obvious.

"Martha hasn't cleared you for heavy lifting yet," Jack said, releasing his hold long enough to take the mug out of Ianto's hand and set it on the drainer.

Ianto sighed. "They're coffee mugs, Jack."

He didn't hear the chuckle; instead he felt it rumble against his neck.

"I meant the Weevils," Jack explained, letting one hand slide up to rest over Ianto's heart. It still annoyed him that he couldn't recall why the gesture held so much significance, but the steady thump beneath his hand provided its own kind of reassurance. Those tantalizing shreds of memory flitting just out of reach would return to roost in their own time.

"They haven't hurt anyone," Jack continued. "I don't want to kill them or lock them up here with Janet if I don't have to. I'd rather relocate them. If they're in a different area maybe they'll be too busy integrating into the local pack to start exploring the surface."

Ianto nodded, feeling more than a little silly. And he thought he'd left teenage angst behind long ago.

"So we'll have to stun them and transport them ourselves," Jack continued. "That means lifting them into and out of the SUV. So you tell me, Ianto, are you really up to hauling a full grown Weevil?"

"No," Ianto admitted, finally relaxing into the embrace. "Sorry, I didn't think. I was being stupid."

Jack turned Ianto in his arms and gave in to the impulse to plant a kiss on the button nose. "What was it I said about competing?" he teased. Having Ianto jealous too made his own struggle with that very emotion a bit less daunting. But Ianto's face froze and his muscles tensed beneath Jack's hands, and Jack fervently wished he'd had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

"I told you I'm not," Ianto muttered from between clenched teeth, feeling far too vulnerable and hating it. "But the habit of years takes more than twelve hours and a few sweet words to break."

Jack's arms dropped from around his waist. Ianto turned back to the now-cold dishwater. His face looked back at him from the oily surface, soap bubbles painting the reflection with opalescent tears.

"I made a decision as your boss, Ianto," Jack said, all warmth gone from his tone. "I shouldn't have had to explain it, but I did. I'll leave you to work out whether that means anything to you, 'cause it sure as hell does to me."

Jack's footsteps echoed across the small expanse of kitchen, which had somehow expanded to the size of a football field.

Ianto's pride told him not to turn around, but he'd made such a fool of himself anyway that the remaining shreds of dignity were hardly worth saving. It couldn't hurt to look. Jack must have swept out of the Hub by now anyway, let alone out of the kitchen.

But Jack was watching him from the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes stormy. Face unreadable. Not even a pout.

"We're really crap at this stuff, aren't we?" Ianto said quietly.

Jack smiled, just a tiny little smile, the sun peeking through the clouds. "We'll get better," he answered.

_When Mickey's gone, his subconscious added._

**Yes I know I promised this arc wouldn't be as angst-ridden as the last, but it can't all be sweetness and light! Thanks for reading.**


	32. Valentines Day 3

**Greetings everyone. I know it has been a long delay between chapters & I apologise. But this is kind of a two-for-one, as the Mickey/Ianto parts were originally planned as a separate chapter. But I think it works better this way (Hope you agree!)**

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Gwen watched Jack out of the corner of her eye. He was driving even more erratically than usual, giving his passenger ample cause to be grateful for the sparse public holiday traffic.

Something was wrong, again. This was getting to be a habit. Gwen quashed a guilty yearning for the days when Ianto and Jack's relationship was the Hubs' worst-kept secret. If they'd been tearing chunks out of each other then, as they were now, at least she hadn't had to suffer through it as well.

Ordinarily, if a friend was having problems Gwen didn't hesitate to wade in with, in Rhys words, closed eyes and open heart. But there was so much going on with these two lately that she just wasn't sure what to do any more.

Rhys told her to let them sort it out for themselves. Pleaded with her, actually. And she could see his point. Kind of. But it was getting to the point where Gwen approached the Hub with apprehension every day, never knowing whether the atmosphere inside would be sunshine and roses, or icicles and cacti.

And the fact they both tried so hard to behave as though nothing was wrong only made it worse.

Jack had opened up to her a little yesterday. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to ask. Indirectly. Subtly.

"How'd your New Year's Eve go?" Gwen asked casually. "Better than mine, I hope."

"Extreme," Jack replied, with a flash of teeth that might have been a smile, but wasn't a particularly convincing one.

Gwen smiled encouragingly. "Extremely good, or extremely bad?"

Jack turned his head. "Both. Like the song. When it was good it was very, very good, when it was bad it was horrid."

Gwen took a moment to digest that, until she realized that Jack was still watching her, awaiting a response. While driving.

"Look out!" Gwen yelped. She braced her hands on the dashboard in sync with the crack of locking seatbelts, as a J-walking pedestrian scrambled out of the path of the swerving SUV, shaking his fist and saying something Gwen was glad she couldn't hear.

"Shouldn't have been crossing there," Jack remarked. He turned back to her. "You were saying?'

"It can wait," Gwen said hastily. "Just concentrate on driving."

Jack turned back to the road, just slowly enough for Gwen to see';/ the way his lips quirked. Her ire rose. He'd done it on purpose.

"You could have said you didn't want to talk about it," Gwen said, prying her fingers loose from their death grip on the edge of the dashboard. "Instead of scaring me to death."

Jack snickered. "Would that have worked?"

"Of course it would," Gwen retorted.

Jack sneaked a sideways glance, displaying a smile which held no small amount of triumph. "In that case, I don't want to talk about it, Gwen."

Gwen busied herself with her PDA. Outwardly, she was composed. Inwardly, she was stinging. Jack's smartass grin faded when she didn't bite back, and he started paying closer attention to the sparse traffic.

Gwen watched him out of the corner of her eye, noting the tension stretching the tendons of his neck and wondering why he wouldn't let her help.

-XXX-

Ianto smiled at Mickey as the cog door rolled shut behind Gwen. "Did we actually get around to drawing up a contract for yesterday?"

"Didn't really have time," Mickey answered. "More of a gentlemen's agreement, I reckon." He waved a hand casually. "Just pay me what Unit does."

Ianto led the way into Jack's office and rummaged for the cheque-book. "And that was…"

He looked up to see Mickey biting his lip, a vague expression in his eyes. "I've got a bank statement in the van, I think," he offered. "It'll be on that."

Ianto stared at him, aghast. "You don't know what your own rate is?"

Mickey smiled sheepishly. "They offered, I accepted. Like I said, paperwork's in the van. Somewhere. Oi, stop shaking your head like I'm mental. I'm in demand, I am."

"Probably because you're under-pricing yourself," Ianto grumbled. "You need to make yourself valuable to them, Mickey. They'll end up using you as cannon fodder if you're cheaper than risking one of their own."

Ianto looked up to see Mickey gaping at him. Literally. Jaw hanging open.

"Tosh told me what it's like to be a guest of Unit," Ianto said quietly. "They aren't known for their scruples."

Mickey got his mouth under control, along with his wits. "See, this is just why I need you working with me."

Ianto shook his head with determination. "Jack needs me," he said.

"What, to make coffee? You can do that at home. He's wasting you, keeping you shut away in here."

It was Ianto's turn to gape. Mickey hurried on, taking advantage of his friend's temporary lack of speech. "You were brilliant yesterday. You should've seen yourself, heard yourself. But look at you today." Mickey jerked a thumb towards the spotless Hub. "Cleaner." The thumb jerked back towards Jack's desk. "And bookkeeper. You're too bloody good for this, and if Jack can't see it, mate, then I can."

Ianto finally found his voice. "He's only being careful because Martha hasn't given me a clean bill of health yet."

"Martha," Mickey repeated, drawing out the name. "You've got her looking after you, haven't you?"

Ianto didn't bother to hide the grin.

"Lucky sod," Mickey concluded.

"Her fiancé treated me too," Ianto added pointedly.

Mickey grinned back. "A man can dream, right? But anyway, I'm sure the hot doctor didn't confine you to quarters, did she?"

"No," Ianto agreed reluctantly. Jack's sudden and extreme protectiveness annoyed the hell out him. But he couldn't complain about it to someone else. Especially not someone who was trying to – poach him? That would be disloyal. Only he couldn't defend it either.

"Just leave it, Mickey. Please."

Mickey folded his arms. Ianto waved the cheque-book. "At least go and get your bank statement while you compose the rest of your argument," Ianto directed. "So I can get your cheque organized."

Mickey's jaw set stubbornly. "No rush. Captain Cheesecake has to sign it, doesn't he?"

"Technically," Ianto agreed. "But I write his signature better than he does."

Mickey arched an eyebrow. "You're a forger, too?"

"Only when the occasion demands it," Ianto answered modestly.

"And I'm a hacker," Mickey said, shaking his head. "Oh the scams we could pull."

"Scams?" Ianto's eyebrows nearly met his hairline

"Deceptions practiced in the interests of saving the Earth," Mickey explained. He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "We're a partnership made in conman heaven; you know that, don't you? And here you are, ready to throw it all away."

Mickey's tragic face wasn't a patch on Jack's pout, but it was still fairly good. Ianto sighed heavily. "Mickey…"

"Just think about it," Mickey interrupted. "While I get those papers."

"Jack needs me," Ianto repeated, his words directed to Mickey's departing back. But this time it felt as though he was reminding himself, rather than his would-be employer.

Mickey looked around just before reaching the cog. "I'm not asking you to break up with him," he called. "I just want you to start working for someone who appreciates your skills."

The cog rolled back. "And I'm not talking ball handling skills, by the way," Mickey yelled over the alarm. "You aren't my type."

Ianto threw a pen, its trajectory helped along nicely by the fact that he was still on the parapet. Gravity worked.

The cog prevented the pen making contact with Mickey's skull, but it didn't close fast enough to block the laughter rolling back through the Hub.

-XXX-

"Mickey said the Weevils ran off when they saw the SUV," Gwen remarked. They were approaching the alert co-ordinates. She was here to do her job. She could punch Jack in his finely chiseled nose later. Or hug him. She wasn't sure which, yet.

Jack pulled over to the side of the road. "So, we make sure they don't see it. I'll grab the nets. Have you got everything you need?"

Gwen patted herself down. Firearm, sedative, stun gun. Her pistol was in its usual place, loaded, safety on. Hopefully she wouldn't need it. Their intent today was capture, not kill. The canister of sedative spray was reassuringly heavy, but Gwen eyed her stun gun doubtfully, trying to remember when she'd last re-charged it.

"Ianto charged all the stunners two days ago," Jack said, unerringly picking the source of her hesitation. His voice held an unmistakable note of reproof.

Gwen flushed. She'd gotten used to Ianto maintaining all their kit when they had the luxury of a fully-staffed Hub, and she still hadn't fully settled into the routine of managing her own supplies, especially given the way Ianto took care of it without complaint. Gwen knew she really shouldn't let him. That maybe she was taking advantage of his good nature. On the other hard, Gwen very much doubted Jack maintained his own kit either, so wasn't he being just the tiniest bit hypocritical?

"He was on light duties," Gwen said defensively. "He still is. That's why you decided not to bring him with us, remember?"

Jack merely regarded her with the infuriatingly bland expression that meant he had no intention of explaining himself. The rattle as his seat belt retracted echoed loudly in the confines of the car.

Not for the first time, Gwen battled with the extreme frustration of being expected to offer blind trust in the full knowledge that it would never be returned. But it _was_ the first time she'd gone on to wonder whether that lack of trust extended beyond Torchwood – and how Ianto coped if it did.

-XXX-

Ianto signed the cheque and tore it free. "Unit's rate was an insult," he said with distaste.

Mickey grinned. "Money is never an insult to the independent contractor."

Ianto handed over the cheque with a flourish. "More than Unit paid," he said, "but less than you're worth."

"You reckon?" Mickey examined the cheque with wide eyes before stowing it away in a pocket. "In that case, how about a bonus?"

Ianto eyed him warily. "No, I will not work for you to make up the difference."

"See how well you know me? But actually, I was thinking how I had all those lovely big guns yesterday, and you made me put them back without firing a single one. Just about broke my heart. And you _did_ say something about showing me the shooting range."

Ianto smiled broadly. "So I did. Good idea. I could use the practice myself."

Mickey led the way to the armory, with an amazing amount of bounce in his step for such a solid man. Ianto trailed along behind, feeling his true age for a change.

Mickey really was fun to hang out with.

Mickey would be fun to work with, too.

-XXX-

Gwen leaned against a rough brick wall, panting and grateful for the water bottle into her pocket. They'd been chasing those Weevils for nearly two hours. On foot. And now, just when she thought they had the fugitives cornered, one of the pair spotted an open drain and dived for it, with the other close behind.

It could be worse. A mission without injuries was something to be grateful for, even if it ended in frustration. Gwen took a long swig of her water and offered the bottle to Jack, who drank thirstily before returning it with a grateful smile. One of the many smiles that still sent a tiny stab of weakness through Gwen's knees, in spite of her best efforts, and damn it, she was having trouble dragging her eyes away from his.

Their fingers brushed as Gwen reclaimed her water bottle, and Jack snatched his hand back as though the contact stung. His smile dropped away and his eyes took on a look that might be guilty, maybe even haunted, and she _wished _he'd tell her what the hell was going on.

But Jack only tapped his earpiece. "Ianto?"

There was a pause, and then Gwen heard the familiar voice in her own earpiece, echoing strangely. "Yes, Sir?"

It was always Sir when they were having problems, Gwen realized. Maybe that was Ianto's way of separating work from home. Or maybe his way of having a dig at Jack in public. And why couldn't she stop analyzing this? It wasn't any of her business, as Jack had made abundantly clear. Gwen sighed. Rhys was right. She _was _nosy. But her friends were unhappy. She hadn't really talked to Ianto yet, but Jack was behaving so strangely around her this morning. And deep inside was a tiny nagging sense that maybe she had something to do with it, only she didn't know what. All of which was driving Gwen crazy. If Torchwood hadn't done that already.

"They've gone back underground," Jack told Ianto, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"So they're safe, then." Ianto answered. "And we've had no more reports of sightings."

Jack stopped prying at his forehead. "Not such a bad outcome," he agreed. "Guess we'll head back."

"I'll put the coffee on," Ianto announced. "See you soon."

Jack smiled. Gwen hid hers. Ianto knew what he was doing. So she only had Jack to worry about.

-XXX-

Mickey lowered his rifle obediently as Ianto waved a hand, then tapped his earpiece. Torchwood's kit triggered Mickey's drool reflex. All these beautiful weapons, practically pieces of art, they were. And ear defenders with comm units in them. Utter bloody luxury for a man used to fighting with whatever his rebel guerilla band stole or scavenged.

Mickey's face fell as Ianto unloaded his firearm. "You're not leaving already, Ianto? We've barely got started."

Ianto smiled. "Sorry. But those Weevils went underground again, and they've lost them. They're heading back. And expecting coffee."

Mickey brightened at that. "Me too?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course," Ianto agreed. Mickey moved to the table and began helping Ianto clean the weapons. Ianto nearly told him not to bother, and then stopped himself. Just because he was used to doing this alone didn't mean he had refuse help when it was offered.

A tiny seed of rebellion took root in Ianto's soul. Why _shouldn't_ his colleagues do their share of cleaning? Fair enough at the moment, while Jack wasn't letting him do anything more strenuous than filing, but Ianto couldn't remember the last time the rest of the team bothered cleaning up after themselves. Not their weapons, nor their desks, not even so much as rinsing their own coffee mugs. Habit, he'd told himself, until he believed it. Those tasks had been his responsibility as general office support, and he hadn't really expected it to stop when he was included in the occasional foray into the field. Even when Ianto was spending as much time out of the Hub as Tosh did, he'd seen the housekeeping – or Hubkeeping, perhaps - as his equivalent of Tosh's IT maintenance.

Ianto smiled fondly as he remembered late-night bonding sessions, where Tosh equated the way no-one emptied their own wastepaper bins with the way they never bothered to clear the recycle bin files on their terminals.

She still hadn't emptied her own bin though.

Mickey drank his coffee with appreciation, and sighed.

"Guess I've got no more excuses for hanging around," he said, with an air of defeat.

Ianto merely sipped his coffee.

"Not that I've given up, mind," Mickey added, wagging a warning finger. "But a man's gotta earn a living. And I'll take your advice about upping my rate with Unit. I'm no-one's cannon fodder."

Ianto smiled over the edge of his mug. "Glad to hear it."

They drank in comfortable silence. If the others were here, Ianto thought, Gwen would be chatting, and Jack would be leering. But this was _peaceful_. He'd miss it. He'd miss Mickey. Unless….

"Torchwood pays well," Ianto said absently. "Better than Unit."

Mickey eyed him with suspicion. "It's meant to be me recruiting you," he protested. "Not the other way around."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "A case of who breaks first," he observed.

Grins broke out on both faces.

"Jack did ask me to fill in while you were recovering," Mickey remembered. "Only I wasn't free then."

"You are now," Ianto noted.

Mickey rotated his mug in his hands. "I'd get more coffee," he mused.

"Frequently," Ianto promised. "And you could spend every spare minute in the shooting range."

"Damned good incentives," Mickey agreed. He looked up. "You reckon Jack would go for it?"

"Of course he would. It's the perfect excuse to keep me wrapped up in cotton wool," Ianto said bitterly, immediately feeling guilty for the comment.

Mickey laughed. "So you _have_ noticed."

Ianto chose to ignore that.

"He'll give you a better rate than Unit, too," Ianto promised, a minute or so later. "Much better."

Mickey's eyebrows rose. "You sound pretty sure."

Ianto smirked. "I can be very persuasive."

"Too much info!" Mickey yelled, hands descending over his ears.

-XXX-

Gwen pushed herself away from the wall and followed Jack as they backtracked to where they'd left the SUV. The click of her boot heels echoed in the empty streets. Looking at the bright side, at least they hadn't needed to Retcon anyone. Which didn't stop it feeling like a waste of effort.

"We would have had them, if we'd been able to block that opening," she mused. "We could have used a third person."

Gwen actually saw the progression of muscles going rigid along Jack's spine.

"Well we haven't got one," he snapped. He picked up his pace, striding ahead of her. If Jack wasn't so naturally graceful Gwen would have described his gait as stomping.

Gwen reached the car at a much slower pace, her mind busily processing what had just clicked into place. "Is that why you're in this mood, Jack?" she demanded. "Because Ianto isn't here? Because you had to bring me instead of him?"

Jack froze with his fingers clenched around the door-handle. The metal gave a tinny squeak of protest.

"I seem to remember saying I didn't want to talk about this," Jack said tightly. "I also recall you assuring me you'd respect that." At which he hauled the door open with a screech of hinges and swung himself into the driver's seat.

Gwen's cheeks burnt, with anger or embarrassment, possibly both. She breathed deeply as she made her way to the passenger side of the vehicle and tried her best not to slam the door. "But it's unfair to take it out on me, Jack," she persisted. "It was your decision, and you _could _have brought Ianto. We might have been able to corner the Weevils if he was here, even if he couldn't help load them afterwards."

"_You _might consider that running around Splott for hours constitutes light duties." Jack snapped. "But I don't." He turned away from Gwen's searching gaze and started the engine with a roar.

Gwen stared at him. She wasn't sure whether the tears building behind her eyes came from anger or sympathy, but she refused to let them fall anyway. Still, putting this reaction together with the way Jack had hovered over Ianto while he'd been so badly injured; Gwen suspected she knew what was going on, now. And it hurt to know. It too nearly shattered the myth of the enigmatic hero Gwen needed to believe in to stay sane at Torchwood. Or maybe, just maybe, it made the hero more heroic.

She could work that out later.

"Or is it because you don't want him back in the field at all?" Gwen asked, with all the gentleness she could muster. "Is that what you two have been arguing about all this time?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably, feeling tension ripple along his spine. Gwen was good at this, and she wasn't going to let up. Jack decided he had to give her some sort of answer before she hit on the truth, whatever that was.

"I'd prefer if Ianto stayed in the Hub until he's fully recovered," Jack hedged. "And he doesn't like it." It was partly true, and it might get Gwen off his back, or at least divert her attention.

It seemed to work. Gwen's eyes softened with sympathy.

"You're still worried about him, aren't you?" she asked.

Worried wasn't really the right word, but Gwen could just imagine his reaction if she used the correct one. Jack was _scared_. He'd lost Owen, and Tosh, and he was afraid of losing Ianto, too. It was a sobering realization. _Jack was scared_. But Jack wasn't afraid of anything. Jack had _told_ her so, that time she'd asked him, frustrated by his calm while she battled terror. He'd brushed off the mere possibility. Bolstering the hero image he so desperately tried to maintain, she supposed. So of course he couldn't admit to being scared now.

Memories flooded her mind, thick and fast. One in particular. Gwen remembered herself, frantic for Rhys safety, while Jack watched a gun press into Ianto's chest with a face of granite. She'd taken that to mean he didn't care, when in reality he cared far, far too much.

Gwen trawled her mind for something that would give Jack some peace and came to the inescapable conclusion that what gave him peace was Ianto. Keeping Ianto with him, keeping him safe. Whether that was what Ianto wanted or not.

Jack twitched under Gwen's scrutiny, uncomfortable with the excess of sentiment. She was practically cooing at him. "Not worried as such," he said, with an attempt at briskness. "Martha assures me he's healing well." At which Gwen stifled a giggle. Last time she'd spoken to Martha, the poor woman had spent the entire call complaining about Jack's incessant demands for updates on Ianto's progress.

"But she still wants to check him every week," Jack continued. "He's obviously not back to full strength yet."

Sparks flashed in Gwen's mind as it presented her with a solution, if only a temporary one. She'd have to be careful. Jack might not be too fond of this, either. But to shoot it down he'd have to confess to being jealous - and Jack would never do that.

"I can understand why Ianto wants to get back into the field, though," Gwen said thoughtfully. "He worries about us out here with no back up. And he _is_ right, you know. We could have used it today, and we certainly needed him yesterday."

She shuddered at the memory. "If he hadn't been able to come after us, we'd….." Gwen broke off, painfully aware of the shaking in her voice. She wrapped her hands around her knees, gripping them painfully tight in an attempt to control the sudden trembling in her limbs as the delayed reaction hit. If Ianto hadn't found Mickey and come after them, the best they could have expected was a lifetime in prison. Assuming their captors stopped at one execution. Gwen knew there was no way she could ever properly repay Ianto for saving them, but helping to sort out whatever was wrong between him and Jack would be a start, surely. Along with remembering to maintain her own kit.

Jack gave her a moment to get herself under control before reaching across to squeeze her shoulder, all the while driving one-handed with his usual flair. "I know," he admitted. "Without Ianto – and Mickey – we'd still be there." There was a quiver in his own voice that he devoutly hoped Gwen was too stressed to notice.

Gwen wasn't the only one who'd pushed aside the memories of the previous day. Jack's whole being flinched from the feel of Gwen's lifeless form in his arms, reminding him so frighteningly of the moment he'd lost Tosh. Jack's hand closed more tightly on her shoulder, soaking up the reassuring warmth, the evidence of life pulsing in the vein beneath his thumb. A sideways glance showed Gwen smiling weakly at him, lips curving softly, eyes misty with sentiment. Gwen's abundant and often misplaced compassion might be a tad cloying, but it did a marvelous job of soothing the battering Jack's ego had taken lately.

It occurred to Jack that they hadn't talked through their experience on the Agamian home-world yet, and they really should. Gwen had come close to death before, but yesterday was undoubtedly the first time she'd actually thought she deserved it. It was negligent of him, both as her boss and her friend, to make her process it alone.

Jack contemplated the merits of finding a pub and getting it over with. No time like the present, after all. It was nearly lunch time, and a few glasses of wine might help with the awkwardness.

He'd actually flipped the indicator when his brain kicked into gear, not to mention his conscience. What was he thinking? Leaving Ianto at the Hub with the flimsiest of excuses and about to settle down for a heart-to-heart with Gwen. However he justified it, this was exactly the behavior that had resulted in Ianto feeling second best for so long.

He hadn't talked through yesterday with Ianto, either.

It was time to take a serious look at his ability to walk the fine line between friendship and flirtation with Gwen. He'd obviously toed the wrong side of that line for a very long time, and he was just lucky Ianto was willing to give him another chance. At which point Jack realized his hand had curled around the back of Gwen's neck. He pulled it away and took the SUV back into the main stream of traffic.

Meanwhile, Gwen was eyeing him with curiosity and he'd better come up with an excuse.

"Wrong turning," Jack explained weakly. "Anyway, yes, Ianto was brilliant yesterday," he continued firmly, returning to a marginally safer topic of discussion. "But that doesn't mean he should push himself back into the field before he's fit. It's not safe for any of us." Damn, that sounded good. Just like a caring boss _should_ sound. And if Gwen needed someone to talk to, she had Rhys. That, Jack thought with an unaccustomed sense of virtue, was why he'd held off Retconning Rhys after the incident with the space whale. Yeah, Gwen should talk to Rhys. And Jack should talk to Ianto. Yeah. Right. Easy.

-XXX-

After watching Ianto laugh for nearly a full minute, Mickey lowered his hands. "OK, do your bit with Jack. I wouldn't mind hanging around here for a while. It'd give me that much more time to work on prying you away."

Ianto laughed again. "You do realize you're wasting your time, don't you?"

Mickey grinned, confidence oozing from every pore. "Nah, you're weakening already."

An alert shrilled and Ianto was relieved at the opportunity to avoid coming up with an answer.

Because it was partly true. Ianto was quickly coming to the realization that he liked working with someone who'd never known him as the Teabo

Ianto leaned back from his examination of the alert monitor. "More Weevils. In Splott again. We'll have to send them back."

"They'll love that," Mickey commented. He ambled over to join Ianto, and peered intently at the screen. "Same ones as before?" he asked.

Ianto shrugged. "Don't know. Which is annoying. See that reading, there?" he jabbed the screen with a neatly manicured finger. "One of the Weevils is tagged. Owen used to inject a tracking device into ones we caught, but we haven't been able to work out his monitoring system."

Mickey stretched his fingers. "Log me in," he offered.

-XXX-

"I think," Gwen said, moving carefully onward, "That you should consider extending Mickey's contract until Martha clears Ianto."

Jack shook his head. "Mickey's on his way back to London by now." The thought was just a bit too warming. So much for the perfect boss routine. He _should_ be regretting that he hadn't managed to recruit Mickey to Torchwood, but something in Jack's gut shrieked with triumph at the departure of a rival for Ianto's affection.

Gwen chuckled. "I doubt it."

Jack looked at her sharply. The Something inside him froze, then burned.

"Mickey and I talked a bit before you and Ianto arrived this morning," Gwen explained. A smile spread across her face at the memory. "He was really disappointed that he didn't get to fire any of the gear he wore yesterday. Apparently Ianto offered to let him take some of it down to the shooting range." Actually, Gwen thought, they were probably down there right now. That would explain the way Ianto's voice echoed on the comms. She giggled. "And the way Mickey was talking, I don't think he'll leave until he's tried all of them. Like a kid in a sweets shop, he was, didn't you see?"

Jack shrugged. "Didn't notice," he mumbled. His mind presented pictures – memories – of himself and Ianto in that very same shooting range. And he knew, he _knew_, damn it, that Ianto wouldn't do anything like that with Mickey, but he couldn't banish the images.

A month ago he wouldn't have wanted to. A month ago those same thoughts would have had Jack logging into the CCTV with his feet up on the desk and a box of popcorn beside him. If he hadn't already angled for an invitation to join the party. What the hell had happened to him?

Visions of Ianto lying motionless in the medical bay played before Jack's eyes. His heart froze exactly the same way it had that night. Jack knew exactly what had happened to him, and his heart warmed again in a way it hadn't done for years.

But right now he was on a mission with Gwen, and his mind really should be in the present, even if his heart was back in the Hub. And what a sappy thought that was. Jack fought the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel.

Gwen saw the soft smile light Jack's face. It wasn't due to anything she'd said – because he obviously hadn't heard a word – but it was good to see anyway. Gwen smiled to herself and started over.

"Mickey probably hasn't left yet," Gwen repeated patiently. "And Jack," she grabbed his arm in her enthusiasm, and to make sure he was listening this time. "Ianto might relax a bit more, knowing we've got someone he trusts backing us up."

Jack's mind churned along with his stomach. Gwen was right, of course she was right. Ianto would be far less stressed about staying out of the field if he knew there was a competent agent filling in for him. And Jack wanted that, didn't he? Wanted Ianto in the relatively safety of the Hub for as long as he could manage it. Hell, wasn't that was why he'd brought up the idea of hiring Mickey in the first place? He'd even discussed it with Ianto – which was why Ianto hunted Mickey up when he'd needed help. So what was stopping him from going ahead now? Nothing he wanted to admit to.

Jack groaned inwardly as he remembered snapping at Ianto for not separating the boss/lover issues just before leaving the Hub, and here he was doing the exact same thing. What a good year this was turning out to be – not.

"Good idea," Jack heard himself saying. At least the part of his brain that controlled his voice still knew how to be professional. "I'll ask him when we get back. If he's still there."

They were just approaching their turn-off when the comms crackled again.

"Those Weevils are out again, Sir. Back in Splott," Ianto announced. His voice wasn't echoing anymore.

Jack sighed and looked for somewhere to perform a U-turn. "On our way," he reported.

"How do you know they're the same ones?" Gwen asked curiously.

"Your Dr Harper tagged one of them." Mickey's voice. "I found the tracking program and got a match. It's definitely the one you chased before. And he was one of the pair I scared off last night, too."

Jack glanced at Gwen and she smiled smugly. It was nice to be right sometimes.

-XXX-

They were back in Splott. Good old Splott. Chasing Weevils that were refusing to behave like Weevils. At least this pair weren't. They were nothing like the usual rogues that made their way to the surface. Not aggressive at all, for one thing. They were mostly keeping near cover, sniffing the air intently as they moved, and going to ground whenever anyone – or anything – came into sight. Including a stray cat.

But they couldn't have gotten to the surface accidentally, or they wouldn't keep coming back out, would they?

Ianto was tracking them now, so at least it wasn't a blind hunt anymore. The upside of which, Jack thought smugly, was that his lover wasn't playing in the shooting range with Mickey. The down side being that Mickey was right there with Ianto, and Jack didn't have any excuse to delay offering that extended contract. Which, he told himself firmly, wasn't a down side at all. The man who'd cracked Owen's baffling tracking system would be an asset. This temporary contract was a golden opportunity to convince Mickey to agree to join Torchwood on a permanent basis.

The green-eyed demon who'd recently taken up residence in Jack's gut didn't agree. Jack ignored it and sprinted after the Weevil that had just broken cover. Gwen's boots pounded from the other direction, and Jack noted with satisfaction that they'd managed to herd both of the aliens into a dead-end alley.

Jack heaved out a groan of frustration as they came to the end of the alleyway. No Weevils. Instead, a mangled grille which recently covered the mouth of yet another drain. Jack stabbed at his earpiece. "Ianto? We've lost them," he announced. "Again."

"It's stopped not far beneath the surface," Ianto replied. "If you back off a bit they might come out again."

"This is weird," Gwen panted, leaning against a relatively clean dustbin while she caught her breath. "They're obviously not comfortable on the surface. Why do they keep coming out?"

Jack shrugged. "Could be any number of things. Most likely their pack rejected them. And if that's the case the best thing for them is relocation, just as we planned. So let's get back to it." He swigged from a bottle of water – his own this time, that he'd retrieved from the SUV - and straightened up. "This isn't working. They're young ones. They can run faster than us and hide better. We're going to have to trap them."

Gwen straightened up with a groan. "Isn't that what we've been trying to do? They keep getting ahead of us."

Jack swore silently and did what a leader should do. "Mickey?"

"Yo!"

"Fancy hanging around a bit longer?"

The noises erupting in the background indicated a high-five festival. Gwen grinned hugely and offered her own hand. Jack obliged with a halfhearted slap and concluded he'd never had a hope. Not against all three of them.

**To anyone who is sufficiently old and Australian to remember Skyhooks, yes the popcorn was a deliberate reference to their song 'Smut'. I hope you got as much of a giggle out of it as I did.**


	33. Valentine's Day 4

**Nothing terribly exciting in this chapter, I'm afraid. Mostly having some fun (I hope) while building the tension, such as it is, setting the stage for ...no that would be spoilers. Please enjoy.********

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"I assume that was a Yes," Jack concluded dryly, when the backslapping commotion died away.

"I'll check my diary," Mickey answered, pausing for all of five seconds. "Free as a bird."

"That was an indication of availability, not an offer to work for nothing," Ianto put in.

Jack couldn't help smiling. He really did love the banter, and there'd been a sad lack of it lately. "You wound me, Ianto," he said dramatically.

"Never, Sir. At least, not intentionally, Sir. Except under orders. Sir."

Mickey's rolling laugh echoed across the comms. Jack twitched his coat closed in spite of the fact he was still breathing heavily from exertion. It occurred to Gwen that her earlier interpretation of Ianto's 'Sir' was likely way off base. Warmth tingled in her cheeks. She held the blush back by sheer force of will.

Jack grinned at nothing in particular. The pleasant glow engendered by Ianto's banter, no, damn it, flirting, on open comms no less, sent the lurking green-eyed demon into slumber, if not complete hibernation. In its absence, Jack could plainly see the positive side of working with Mickey.

Mickey_ would_ be a great asset. Maybe it was worth making the effort to convince him to stay on permanently. Ianto would certainly help with that. Gwen had already suggested it herself, so she'd be on board. Especially if he let her think it was her idea. Jack's smile broadened. Mickey was as good as recruited.

"All right then. Mickey, come meet us. I have a plan, but it'll need more manpower."

"Aye, Captain."

"I'm your boss now," Jack said. "Start showing some respect." He shot Gwen an unconvincing glare as she giggled into her hand.

"You aren't technically my boss until the contract's signed," Mickey said cheerfully. "So I'm gonna make the most of my last moments of free speech." He paused. "You can consider my co-operation on this mission a sign of goodwill, which I'm sure you'll reflect in our later negotiations."

Jack gaped. Gwen giggles grew louder.

"Ianto, did you just slip him a note?" she demanded.

Ianto cleared his throat. "What gave me away?"

"Hearing your words in Mickey's voice," Gwen explained, still laughing. "It was a bit freaky."

Jack sighed and attempted to assert some authority when all he really wanted to do was join in the fun. "OK, guys, time to work. Mickey might as well start earning the outrageous amount of money Ianto will negotiate for him. Focus, people."

The comms went silent. Jack swelled with pride. They were _good_. They knew when to stop.

"Mickey, grab as many spare nets as you can find and bring them with you."

"Yep." The word might be casual, but the tone was crisp. Jack welcomed the buzz as adrenaline built in his system. He grinned at Gwen, and found himself turning to the other side, where his subconscious expected Ianto to be. The buzz took a hit at the absence of his favorite hunting partner and a tiny nagging voice asked whether he was being selfish, depriving Ianto - and himself - of the best moments of a frequently rotten job. Then the fear of loss hit afresh and Jack knew no amount of adrenaline could ever balance it. No, this was the best way. He couldn't keep Ianto safe, but there were degrees of danger. Ianto was safer in the Hub than in the field, and they _needed_ a co-ordinator on this one.

"Ianto, keep watching that Weevil. We're going to need to know its exact location at all times if this is going to work. We have to hope the other one stays with him…it."

"Him," Ianto confirmed. "Owen had notes in his system. And we've still got a stash of his tagging devices. I'll send one with Mickey so you can tag the other Weevil when you catch them."

"Good idea," Jack acknowledged. "OK, Mickey, go get yourself kitted out." He paused and added warningly. "Easy on the firepower, we're trapping, not killing."

Mickey's sigh was audible over the comms. "I_ can_ play grown ups, y'know Jack."

"And here's your chance to prove it," Jack answered cheerfully.

"Anything else, Sir?" Ianto asked briskly. "Or anything you need, Gwen?"

Jack glanced quickly at Gwen, eyebrows raised. She shook her head.

"No, we're good. Don't bankrupt us when you write up Mickey's contract."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Sir. Then again, we do have to consider the fact that Torchwood intends to make use of his personal vehicle. And there's accommodation to factor in…"

Jack groaned, not solely from contemplating the budget. Efficient Ianto was hot.

It wouldn't help the negotiations in the slightest that Jack knew he'd quite happily cover the cost of an entire suite at St David's if it prevented Ianto offering Mickey their spare room. So OK, he was over the jealousy thing, but why take stupid chances?

"He can use one of the empty safe houses," Gwen suggested.

Jack beamed at her. "You're brilliant, Gwen. I might have to let you sit in on the negotiations. You and me against Mickey and Ianto."

Gwen smiled uncertainly into the silence that followed.

Ianto broke into it with his usual efficiency. "Give me ten minutes to get Mickey kitted out and he'll be on his way," he announced. The comms crackled into silence before Jack could reply.

Gwen used her peripheral vision to check on Jack, who appeared to be fascinated by a blade of grass forcing its way through a crack in the concrete. She hadn't imagined it, then. Ianto's voice wasn't cold, exactly, but the warmth of just moments ago was gone. This really was getting to be too much.

"What _is_ it, Jack?" Gwen asked.

Jack shrugged. "He's got work to do, that's all. Being professional. One of this team has to be."

If he'd hoped the sarcasm would put her off, he was disappointed.

Gwen tapped her foot, thinking hard. She remembered Jack's odd behavior as he watched Mickey and Ianto yesterday. She'd teased him about being jealous then, but she'd thought it cute rather than concerning. It was so unlike Jack to be jealous. But he'd been odd about the boys being in the shooting range together, too. "Is it Mickey?" Gwen asked, trying not to sound surprised.

Jack flicked Gwen an annoyed glance. "I take it you've forgotten the 'I don't want to talk about it' thing?" he said with exasperation, before returning his attention to the crack in the pavement.

Gwen decided evasion was as good as admission in this instance. "Look, Jack, whether you want to admit it or not, I know you were a bit jealous yesterday. But you know there's nothing in it, don't you?"

"I told you I don't get jealous, Gwen." Jack scuffed the blade of grass with the toe of his shoe. He was usually a better liar than that.

"Mickey's straight," Gwen said patiently.

Jack finally met her eyes. "So is Ianto," he said with triumph. Short-lived triumph. "Or he _was_." His head dropped again. The blade of grass which had triumphed over concrete was nothing more than a green smear beneath his shoe.

"Mickey's got a crush on Martha," Gwen added pointedly.

_That_ got a reaction. Jack's head snapped up. "Really?" Gwen thought the hopeful tone was awfully sweet.

"Really," she confirmed. "He kind of told me, well, not in so many words, but it's pretty obvious. Martha's noticed, too. She's quite flattered."

Jack's face fell again. "Martha's engaged."

It took no small amount of effort on Gwen's part to keep the amusement from showing on her face. She _should_ feel bad about the pleasure it gave her to see Jack insecure. But it was nice to know he wasn't quite as unflappable as he pretended to be. It made him more human.

"It does show where Mickey's interest lies, though," Gwen said soothingly. "And it isn't with Ianto, at least, not that way. They're just friends, Jack."

Jack remained unconvinced. Gwen tried again. "Like us, Jack. We're friends. Ianto doesn't have a problem with that, does he? So you shouldn't….."

Jack turned back to his squashed blade of grass, but not fast enough to hide his reaction.

A chill settled in Gwen's stomach. "Or does he?" she asked slowly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack snapped.

Gwen planted her hands on her hips, feeling the chill spread towards her heart. "You've been running hot and cold on me all day. Whatever's going on, it's got something to do with me, hasn't it?"

"Don't be paranoid," Jack said impatiently.

"It isn't paranoia if it's real," Gwen pointed out. "You have to tell me, Jack. I've got to work with him. And you." She was on a bit of a roll now, apart from wanting to get to this sorted before Ianto came back onto the comms. "And to be honest I'm fed up with the way it's been in the Hub lately. I'm sick of having to tiptoe around the pair of you and I hate seeing you both unhappy."

"You'll scare the Weevils," Jack said, in a final desperate attempt at deflection.

Gwen ignored him. "If it's anything to do with me, I have the right to know. "

"Gwen, please…."

"It_ is_ me, then? And it's so bad you can't tell me." Something prickled behind Gwen's eyes. She knew, deep down, that she hadn't always been as respectful of Ianto as she should. Or of the relationship between him and Jack – though that part wasn't entirely her fault, given how secretive they'd been. But Gwen liked Ianto and she'd always thought he liked her, too. It hurt to think it had gotten to this point.

To the point where he'd turn Jack against her? No, Ianto wouldn't do that. He _could _- the distance between her and Jack today was ample evidence of that. He could, but he wouldn't. Not Ianto. Would he?

"No, Gwen. It's…it's not you, it's me."

Tears built in Gwen's eyes, along with an irrational desire to laugh at Jack resorting to the tired old break-up line. But as he continued his evasive spluttering, anger replaced the chill inside her, and dried the tears with its heat.

"Out with it, damn you." Gwen hadn't realized she could growl. She'd have to remember how. It was bound to come in useful, sometime.

As Gwen's eyes burnt into his, Jack's temper flared to match. He was only trying to spare her feelings, damn it.

"All right, Gwen. If you want to know _that_ badly."

Gwen flinched at his tone but refused to let herself back down. She had to know what was wrong if she wanted any hope of fixing it.

Jack breathed deeply, getting himself in control, making sure he really did want to say this. "Ianto has this idea that I only turned to him because you got engaged."

Gwen blinked. Her mouth opened, closed again. She wasn't sure whether she was fighting to keep the words in, or to let them out. They must have escaped regardless, because Gwen could hear her voice saying them. Odd how the words seemed to take on physical form as they floated from her ears to his. As if she could catch them, take them back, or possibly slap him across the face with them, letter by letter.

"So, um, I guess you didn't, then?"

Obviously she hadn't quite exorcised all those dreams, after all.

* * *

**Go on, hate me if you must, but I'll fix it, I promise. Eventually.**


	34. Valentne's Day 5

**A reasonably quick update, I'm surprising myself, don't expect to keep this up. But I couldn't leave them where they were, could I?**

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"Used a stun gun before?" Ianto asked.

Mickey shook his head. "It's mostly been life or death," he confessed, laying on the fake modesty.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "And I thought Jack was dramatic."

"Taught him everything he knows," Mickey boasted.

"I doubt it. Ianto said, shaking his head slowly. "You appear to have a few less twists to your nature that your typical corkscrew." Ianto winced at his own tone and busied himself finding a holster for the stun gun.

Mickey bit his lip, thoughtfully if not elegantly. "Trouble in paradise, mate? I mean, there was some weird stuff _not_ being said on the comms before."

Ianto sighed. "Am I that transparent?"

Mickey punched his shoulder lightly. "Nah. You _are_ a bit of a girl, though."

Ianto glowered at him.

"The one in high school that's got the captain of the football team on her arm," Mickey elaborated. "Who's so worried all the other girls are gonna steal him away she can't see he doesn't notice the rest."

Ianto slapped the stun gun into Mickey's hard just a bit too forcefully. Mickey yelped at the impact and delivered the soulful eyes, which still weren't up to Jack's level.

"Just be grateful I didn't test the voltage on you," Ianto said darkly. "And don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Mickey took the hint and headed for the exit. He looked back over his shoulder just as the lift was closing. "You're the butch-est girl I've ever met, if that helps at all."

"I'll have your decaf waiting when you get back," Ianto yelled over the noise of the ascending lift.

Mickey didn't answer, but the sound of his laughter echoed through the Hub long after the lift had groaned its way to the surface.

-XXX-

It would have been funny if it wasn't so damned uncomfortable. Jack looked something like a startled deer, which definitely didn't suit him, or his image. If that wristband he was so fond of was working, Gwen was sure he'd have teleported away. Far away. Something Gwen didn't fancy having to explain to Ianto, so it was just as well the silly thing was broken, after all.

The sound of Mickey's ancient engine grumbling to a halt definitely qualified as divine intervention. In the bustle that followed, they could both pretend the awkward conversation had never taken place. A far better solution than Retcon.

-XXX-

Gwen tied off the last net and returned to where Jack waited with the SUV. She was still flushed with victory at successfully countering Mickey's complaints about being left behind to man the nets. He'd wanted to chase Weevils too, but had reluctantly agreed that Gwen's superior knowledge of Cardiff's geography would give her an edge in the ensuing chase. As she left the alley Gwen could hear Mickey deploring the lack of grunt in the standard Torchwood stun guns.

"You've got more than enough to put two young Weevils to sleep," she called back, still buzzing from her tiny victory. "We want to keep them alive, remember?"

Gwen climbed into the SUV, chuckling at the response which had quite possibly turned the air blue, only to discover that Jack had the radio up loud enough to discourage conversation. The buzz died and she began to wish she'd let Mickey win.

-XXX-

The next ninety minutes consisted of following Ianto's instructions to "Gwen, move one block to the north. Jack if you go east and follow that street to the end, they'll have nowhere to go except towards Mickey." And so on. To the background of Mickey complaining about how bored he was interspersed with lewd jokes to help pass the time.

It was a typical Torchwood afternoon, really, with an absolute lack of the glamour that ought to accompany inclusion in an elite team of alien-hunters. Dust, dirt and lots of running, herding two elusive Weevils around Splott. Gwen wished some of her ex-colleagues in the Force could see them. It might halt the barrage of 'poncing around with pretty boys' comments. Not that Ianto and Jack weren't pretty. It was the 'poncing' bit Gwen objected to.

Ianto had cleverly included a pair of paintball guns with the equipment Mickey brought, which spared them from the usual suspicious glances. Two people running about Splott with weapons might attract attention, those same people with paintball guns were 'yuppies with nothing better to do and don't aim that bloody thing at my house, do you hear?'

At the end of it, the Weevils stormed into the right alley, blundered into the nets strung across the end and knocked the wind out of Mickey as his stun gun made contact.

Tired, dusty, bruised, but victorious, they took advantage of the luxury of two vehicles to load a Weevil into each, instead of the usual 'cram em in tight and hope they don't wake up' technique. Gwen gave serious thought to cadging a ride with Mickey but decided gloomily that would prove her several sorts of coward. She climbed back into the SUV to watch silently while Jack frowned at the release co-ordinates already loaded into the navigation system.

"Ianto, are you sending us all the way across Cardiff just to find them a nicer set of sewers?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"It's a drainage basin," Ianto explained. "A bit of a wasteland, and close enough to Bute Park that no-one ever bothers going there to walk or ride their bikes." His voice changed, softened. "It's where Owen always used to release any captured Weevils."

Jack and Gwen smiled at each other with the bitter-sweetness reflected in Ianto's tone. Owen's recommendation was enough to quell any lingering doubts. He'd been the Weevil King, after all. The moment of shared nostalgia lifted the uncomfortable atmosphere. Jack decided he was being childish, turned the radio down to background level, and wondered aloud whether it was warm enough to ensure the Weevils wouldn't suffer from exposure if they remained unconscious overnight.

Still, there was only so much discussion about Cardiff weather you could legitimately indulge in. Jack muted the comms before finally bursting out with "You thought so, too?" It wasn't a very clear question, but he had no doubt Gwen knew exactly what he meant. They'd been trying to avoid discussing it for hours now.

"Sometimes," Gwen admitted. She shifted uncomfortably and hoped the Weevil would wake up.

"I'm sorry." Jack couldn't meet her eyes. "I didn't mean to….." Probably the weakest and most common excuse for doing the wrong thing he'd ever heard, and he was vaguely ashamed to hear those words coming from between his lips.

Gwen shrugged. "There were some things you did that made me wonder." Just wonder, Gwen told herself firmly. Curiosity, not hope.

Jack didn't need to ask what those incidents were. Dozens of possibilities paraded before his mind's eye and he cringed at the memories. They'd all made sense at the time, he was sure. It was only now, looking back with a bit less arrogance blinding him, that Jack realized how many coincided with one of the 'off' phases of the 'on-and-off' relationship he'd subjected Ianto to for so long. Later incidents - after Owen euthanized that poor space whale, for instance – coincided with Ianto being injured, or in danger. It made Jack ask himself whether he'd been using Gwen to sooth his ego all along. Or had he been trying to prove to himself that he didn't really need Ianto? Either. Both. Slightly pathetic, regardless.

"I did wonder whether you were trying to make Ianto jealous, sometimes," Gwen commented. An outright lie, but she was pretty impressed with it. It was a lie they could both comfortably live with until they believed it.

Jack seized on it gratefully. "Maybe I was," he conceded.

Gwen pasted on a smile but she couldn't quite eliminate the hurt from her tone. "Good thing I didn't take it seriously, huh?"

Jack looked stricken.

"I wouldn't have, of course," Gwen added hurriedly, realizing in horror that she was beginning to babble. "I love Rhys, you know that. It's just…..it was…..flattering?"

Now Jack actually looked offended. Gwen couldn't look at him as she floundered for something that sounded neither pathetic nor insulting, and couldn't come up with anything better than, "And I do _care _about you, Jack. You know that." Heaven help her, another tired break up line. And this wasn't even a break up.

"But not that way?" Jack concluded hopefully, finding his voice in time to complete the ultimate in breakup clichés.

_Say Yes _Jack pleaded silently. He could forgive himself for making Gwen feel uncomfortable. He _couldn't _forgive himself if he'd driven any sort of wedge between her and Rhys.

The realization that Jack wasn't doing any better with this than she was restored Gwen's equilibrium. She could fix this. A few months ago that question might have sent her into a panic, but she was sorted now. Gwen's heart swelled with joy, knowing she could give the right answer with a clear conscience. "Not that way," she agreed.

Jack grinned. "That's what I thought," he said, with evident relief.

Gwen smiled back. The air between them stopped prickling. They'd be fine now.

The words "Not any more," hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she could at least keep them from going further.

-XXX-

Weevils weren't the most predictable of creatures. However, the events surrounding the relocation of this particular pair had them all scratching their heads.

They'd laid the unconscious aliens in a sheltered spot within sight of the open storm-water system. So far so good. But before any of them had time to get back into the vehicles, a group of Weevils emerged and circled the unconscious pair.

Mickey sprang into action with his stun gun in one hand and a pistol in the other. Jack leaped forward to block the younger man's path, only to have Mickey dodge him with a grace at odds with such a solid build.

Gwen shivered. This wasn't the amusing, lighthearted Mickey she'd seen so far. This was the rebel fighter who'd taken on Cybermen and Daleks – and won. And he hadn't been joking when he said he didn't fancy taking orders from Jack.

"Mickey. Wait," Jack bellowed.

There was a moment where Mickey hovered mid-step, but the note of command registered and he drew to halt, waiting impatiently until Jack joined him.

"We didn't bring them all this way so they could become dinner," Mickey growled.

Gwen watched in fascination as the two men argued into each others faces while the pack drew ever closer to the pair of Weevils lying on the ground. Two alpha males butting heads, she thought, amusement overriding her irritation that their debate wasn't helping resolve the Weevil situation. It was odd that Jack wasn't simply ordering Mickey to stand down, though. As that sank in, Gwen realized with something approaching surprise that Mickey might be the only person Jack actually viewed as his equal - in their line of work at least. She really didn't want to evaluate the balance of power between Jack and Ianto. That was the path to migraines, and it was fairly evident neither man understood it themselves, at least not at the moment.

Mickey, though. Mickey had traveled with the Doctor, like Jack. Mickey had gone head-to-head with Daleks and Cybermen, again like Jack. Mickey was strong and fast and handsome. Check, check, check. Charisma too, of a completely different order, but still…. Well, well, well. The bewildering concept of Jack actually feeling jealous of Mickey began to make some sort of sense. She could even start to see, faintly, because it was still patently ridiculous, why Jack considered Mickey a rival for Ianto's affection.

Which in turn suggested a resolution to the stalemate in front of her. Gwen tapped her earpiece and opened a private channel. "Ianto?"

-XXX-

Ianto was bored. He couldn't even listen to what was going on with the Weevil relocation because Jack had cut the comms and it wouldn't be polite to break back in without a good reason. It might even make Jack think he didn't trust him alone with Gwen, which was definitely not a good idea. And completely untrue, of course.

But still, he was bored. Nothing to do. The Hub was spotless. Except for Myfanwy's nest, the cleaning of which was one of Ianto's least favorite jobs. If 'no heavy lifting' barred him from a Weevil hunt, it also had to bar him from lugging clean bales of straw up to the gantry. A fact Ianto was gleefully planning to point out to Jack when he found the odiferous task waiting on his return. Even if he did the puppy eyes. Ianto had a point to prove.

Ianto itched to be out with the team. He hadn't needed any pain relief all day and the enforced inactivity was frustrating, both to his active mind and to a recovering body used to activity. And he could have helped. They could've used another set of legs out there, even if he was excluded from hauling the Weevils into the vehicles.

Ianto chewed his lower lip while he chewed over an idea in his mind. Maybe Martha wouldn't mind bringing his checkup forward a few days? It was only a video conference, after all. Surely she could fit that in a bit earlier? He really couldn't wait another week to get back out there. He'd go crazy. Stir crazy.

"And he's left me in the Hub again," Ianto complained into the phone. "Which means he was driving the SUV instead of on the ground with the rest of them. I could have done the driving, couldn't I?"

On the other end of the line, Martha Jones heaved in a deep breath. She quite frankly adored Jack, and she understood and empathized with his fears for Ianto's safety, but he really was taking this to extremes.

"Yes, Ianto, you could've. And you should have. You need to build up you fitness level again, and that won't happen if Jack confines you to the Hub." Martha sighed heavily, fingers digging into the bridge of her nose, trapped between supporting her friend or her patient. "You know why he's doing this, though, don't you Ianto?"

Ianto made some flustered sounds that weren't really words. Martha's eyes brightened as she smiled fondly. The first smile she'd been able to produce for quite a while. But she could practically _see_ the young Welshman blushing and she had to bite back a laugh as he stammered out some unconvincing disclaimers about how Jack would _never_ put personal considerations before the good of Torchwood. It was terribly sweet. Ianto was either totally unaware of his power over Jack or totally incapable of using it. It warmed Martha to the core to know that at least one of her ageless friends had given his heart into good keeping.

Still, if Jack carried on like this, he'd hurt the both of them. She really ought to get him sorted, before he squeezed so tight Ianto slipped out from between his fingers.

"How about I do your physical in person this time?" Martha suggested. "It might set Jack's mind at rest if I can _show_ him how well you've recovered, instead of just telling him."

"That'd be great," Ianto agreed fervently. "Maybe you could stay on for a few days, make a visit out of it?" he added eagerly.

"Because Jack might let you set foot outside if he knows there's a doctor handy?" Martha suggested. "Good idea. I could use a break, anyway."

Martha hung up the phone, Ianto's profuse thanks echoing in her ears. This trip to Cardiff was just what she needed, and it solved one of her problems, if only temporarily. The list of estate agents she'd been scrolling through when Ianto called rebuked Martha as she closed it.

Escaping to Cardiff would give her some sorely-needed breathing space. Delaying the inevitable perhaps, but at least now she'd have time to come to terms with it.

Martha loved her flat in London, but it was within walking distance of the hospital where Tom worked, and he'd given his own place up when he moved in with her. It was only fair that he stayed on. Martha shut down her computer and decided she'd find somewhere else to live when she got back from Cardiff.

**The Valentine-y stuff should begin in the next chapter. Be prepared for fluff. Thanks for reading!**


	35. Valentine's Day 6

**Minor fluff this chapter, mostly build up. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Ianto was still smiling at the phone when his earpiece buzzed. He might possibly develop a slight case of hero-worship for Martha, especially if she could convince Jack to stop treating him as though he'd shatter if the wind hit him the wrong way. Or the sun.

"Ianto? It's Gwen. Are you _listening _to them?"

"Not at the moment," Ianto responded. "Should I be?"

"You'd probably rather not," Gwen admitted. "But if you don't do something I'm likely to bang their heads together."

"Who, the Weevils?" Ianto asked in confusion.

"No, the boys," Gwen said. "And I've chosen that word quite deliberately, by the way."

Ianto registered Gwen's aggrieved tone and decided he needed to hear this for himself. He logged back into the general comms and listened with his eyes widening in proportion to the lift of his eyebrows. Obviously one had to travel with the Doctor to develop _that_ sort of vocabulary, which was quite surprising given how well-spoken the Doctor was when Ianto met him.

The heated discussion was well past the stage where Ianto could discern what they were actually arguing about, so he listened for only a moment before switching back to the private channel where Gwen waited. "You're right," he announced. "I listened and I wish I hadn't. What's going _on_ out there?"

"The local Weevil pack – or some of them, anyway – have come out and surrounded the pair we just released." Gwen whispered. "To summarize the childishness you heard, Mickey wants to sail to the rescue and Jack is demanding that he stand down and leave the pack to sort it out."

"Can't we just wait and see what happens?" Ianto asked.

"That's what I think," Gwen agreed. "It did occur to me to just let them argue it out until the Weevils make their move, but I think the noise is starting to spook the pack."

"Say something, then," Ianto suggested, sounding slightly bewildered.

"I've tried," Gwen said patiently. Which she had, making about the same impression as a butterfly in a hurricane. "Now it's your turn."

The sound that traveled through the comms was definitely a snort. "And what will that achieve, apart from give them someone else to yell at?" Ianto asked, with his voice developing a definite hint of suspicion. "Or are you hoping they'll unite against a common enemy?"

Gwen couldn't help smiling. She thought it was quite sweet, not to mention a bit sad, that Ianto didn't understand how a single word from him carried more weight than an entire diatribe from her, especially with Jack. With some justification, Gwen had to admit, given that her arguments usually came straight from the heart rather than being reasoned through before she presented them. Ianto's suggestions probably met the requirements of some sort of mental checklist before they got past his lips.

Then again, it was also very Ianto. He always underestimated himself and certainly never pushed for recognition. Which, Gwen realized with a stab of guilt, shouldn't excuse the rest of them - because Jack was definitely as bad as she was, at least during work-hours - from showing appreciation instead of taking his efforts for granted. Something that should change, and there was of course no time like the present.

Ianto cleared his throat, politely impatient, and Gwen dragged her mind back to the issue at hand. The Weevils on the ground were starting to twitch. Deal with this first, she told herself, and explore world-altering revelations later. Besides which, Ianto would probably insist on scanning her for alien substances if she expounded her theory that Torchwood Three would sink into the void if Ianto wasn't there to keep it afloat. Subterfuge seemed to be in order.

"Mickey knows you better than he knows me," Gwen said diplomatically. "He might listen to you."

Ianto didn't reply, but the loud, aggrieved sigh spoke volumes. An instant later the private channel hissed with static.

-XXX-

Ianto's voice crackled over the comms. "Sir, I'm getting several Weevil signals in close proximity to the relocated pair," he announced.

"We know," Mickey all but spat. "We need to get 'em away."

"There's no reason to intervene," Jack announced firmly. "They're not making any threatening moves."

"No point threatening dead meat, is there?" Mickey insisted. "Geez, the last lot ran from the SUV, this pack's gonna think the big black car means Meals on Wheels."

"The signals I'm reading," Ianto said calmly, but also loudly enough to cut across whatever response Jack was about to make. "Include the tag signatures of several previously relocated Weevils, which would suggest they've been accepted into the pack rather than eaten on discovery."

"Or the tags got eaten along with them," Mickey grumbled.

Jack snorted. Ianto tutted, at whom Gwen wasn't sure. She also wasn't sure that treating them both as though they were erring schoolboys was the best idea, but she could hardly jump back in after she'd asked Ianto to help, could she? Well, unless they got to the point of inflicting actual bodily harm on each other.

And it appeared that Ianto wasn't finished yet.

"The tags wouldn't have survived digestion, Mickey," Ianto explained patiently.

If gloating had a sound, Jack made it. Gwen nobly refrained from kicking him. Ianto tutted again. Definitely at Jack, that time.

Mickey held his ground, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Not highly encouraging, but still an improvement from resting on the butt of the one sidearm Ianto had allocated him for this mission. Gwen had a sudden yearning for popcorn. Who needed the cinema when you had drama like this?

"And I'm sure Jack isn't suggesting you stay back if the pack starts getting aggressive," Ianto continued firmly. "Are you, Sir?"

The glare Jack had continued to point in Mickey's direction faltered. "Is that what you thought?" he demanded. "That I'd just let the pack kill them? Hell, Mickey, we've been chasing them all day. I could've killed them a dozen times over, if that's all I wanted." While his tone remained cold, his eyes actually held a hint of pleading. Gwen couldn't tear her own eyes away. This was fascinating. Two alpha males backing down with their fangs still bared. It was better than David Attenborough.

Mickey shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I suppose you could've," he admitted. "Guess I've gotten too used to working with Unit."

Jack's stony expression collapsed. His arm rose to squeeze Mickey's shoulder briefly and their stormy friendship restored itself as Mickey's face twisted into a grimace.

"No hugging," he warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jack agreed. "We'll step in if we have to," he continued, all business again, with a nod towards the Weevil pack. The pack was now within touching distance of the two relocated Weevils, which appeared to be on the verge of consciousness. "But not_ unless_ we have to."

Mickey nodded. "Fair enough."

Gwen smiled, remembered her new resolve, and opened the private channel again. "Thanks Ianto," she whispered. There was no response, but he'd done his bit so it was up to her to make sure nothing else went wrong, and Gwen was pretty sure no good would come of the others discovering she and Ianto had colluded.

By the time Gwen made her way back across the uneven ground to where Jack and Mickey waited, she'd assumed her best pouty frown. "Brilliant idea," she congratulated them, with an excess of sarcasm. "Even if it's only what I've been trying to suggest while you two were snarling at each other."

"Were you?" Both men regarded her with slight surprise.

"Doesn't matter," Gwen sighed. But she couldn't resist a parting shot. "It must have been difficult to hear through all the testosterone."

Ianto listened in something approaching surprise to Gwen's whispered thanks, snickered at her aggrieved follow-up, and wondered with bemusement when his role had expanded to include peacemaker. He'd always thought that was Gwen's job.

Still, Gwen had asked him for help and then _thanked _him. It shouldn't feel like a new experience, surely. She must have said the words to him before. Only somehow this time felt different, as though, -and really he couldn't have gotten enough sleep last night - as though she was actually acknowledging he'd done something she couldn't,_ and_ being grateful for it instead of resentful.

Ianto shook his head at the universe in general, the Rift in specific, and headed for the coffee machine, which at least would always behave the way it was supposed to.

-XXX-

The welcome scent of caffeinated beverages floated out to meet them as the cog rolled back. Along with the welcome sight of Ianto bearing a tray laden with steaming mugs and an assortment of biscuits.

"This is utter bloody luxury, this is," Mickey groaned, collapsing into a chair in front of what he was already beginning to think of as _his_ desk.

"Well, _that_ was an utter bloody anti-climax," Gwen announced, slumping into her chair and groaning her own appreciation of the waiting coffee. "Ianto, you've been sent straight from heaven, you know that, don't you?"

Ianto hoped the smile on his face didn't look shocked. Gwen must really need caffeine.

"I could have told you that, months ago," Jack agreed. "And," he added smugly. "I also could've told you the Weevils weren't going to attack. In fact, I did." Whereupon he sat down abruptly as a chair slammed into the back of his knees.

"Sorry," Ianto said unapologetically, handing over the blue striped mug. Jack debated between affront and coffee, and decided on the coffee. Ianto probably hadn't meant it, anyway.

"So what did the Weevils do?" Ianto enquired, placing Mickey's mug onto the desk that would always be Tosh's, however careful they were to _call_ it Mickey's.

"They all sniffed 'em, but no one bit," Mickey reported.

"Left two to guard it," Gwen added.

"I don't think they were guards," Jack disagreed. "They weren't very big."

"Weevil social workers," Ianto put in. The others eyed him suspiciously, looking for the sarcasm. Ianto raised his hands defensively. "No, really, who's to say they aren't developing a social structure?"

"Maybe they were nurses, then," Gwen suggested. "And they'll nurse our two back to health and make little Weevils together."

The three men groaned at her. "Only you," Jack said, "Would try to make Weevils romantic."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Maybe they'll ask you to be bridesmaid. I wouldn't throw rice though."

"That's not what I meant…" Gwen began.

"Shredded ham, perhaps," Ianto said, a grin lighting his face.

Gwen's hands propped onto her hips. "I only thought….."

"Come on, Ianto, it's a wedding," Jack chided, gleefully joining the banter. It wasn't really fair to gang up on Gwen, he supposed, but there'd been so much sadness around the Hub lately, he could let a light moment go past without milking it for all it was worth. Especially when it put that smile on Ianto's face. "We should go a bit more up-market, don't you think? Smoked salmon, at least."

"I give up," Gwen yelled, throwing up her hands in defeat. "There's too much testosterone in this office for one girl to compete with."

"Never mind," Ianto said consolingly. "Martha will be here next week."

Gwen smiled. "Best news I've heard all day. Womankind shall have our revenge."

Mickey turned to investigate the alarm blinking on his screen, a broad smile splitting his face.

Jack tried not to frown, but Ianto noticed it anyway.

-XXX-

Jack leaned back in his chair, watching idly as Ianto delivered the last round of coffee for the day. He was pleased to see Gwen glance up with her lips moving in what had to be a 'thank you'. Mickey didn't raise his eyes as the mug landed beside him, Jack noted, carefully _not_ gloating. Mickey was trying to hack into the communications of an orbiting space freighter so he could ask it to leave. It was only right not to allow anything to break his concentration.

Ianto brought the remaining mugs up to the office with him. "Progress report?" he asked, face crinkling into a smile. It was their usual excuse for sharing a quiet moment together as they put Torchwood away for the day.

"Fire away," Jack agreed.

"Gwen's got a summons from Andy," Ianto reported. "Something to do with a mysterious death. She's got a date at the morgue tomorrow."

"Lucky girl," Jack snickered. "That's one she can have all to herself." His recently over-active conscience pointed out that he'd usually take the opportunity to accompany Gwen regardless, which was just the sort of behavior which had led to that horribly awkward discussion today.

It was a load off Jack's mind, not to mention that annoying conscience, to know he'd finally cleared the air between Gwen and himself. He was probably luckier than he deserved that Gwen hadn't dissolved into tears and accusations. It might only have been her ego he was feeding, rather than an infatuation, but it must have hurt when it shattered, however cleverly she'd covered up. Jack was determined not to provide any further fodder for misunderstanding. Ianto quite likely wouldn't forgive him again, and Jack had no intentions of losing the man currently brushing against him – quite accidentally on purpose - as he placed his mug in position on its coaster.

Jack did some not-so-innocent 'brushing' himself and smirked as Ianto retreated to the other side of the desk. Yes, this little interlude helped them leave Torchwood in the Hub, but he'd also noticed Ianto frequently took the opportunity to prime Jack for home-time as well. An economic use of time of which Jack heartily approved.

"And Mickey's nearly through," Ianto continued, retrieving his own mug before sinking into the other chair. "Just waiting for the translator to kick in."

"Clever boy, our Mickey," Jack commented. "Now you just need to find us a medic. Which you seem to be working on, by the sounds of it. When does Martha arrive?"

"Four more days," Ianto answered. "And I'd love to take the credit, but it was her idea to visit. I only wanted to bring my checkup forward." He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "It'd be great to have Martha around though, wouldn't it? Do you think you can talk her into staying?"

Jack frowned. "I doubt it. Tom works in London. I don't fancy our chances of convincing her to relocate three hours away from her fiancé. In fact, I'm a bit surprised she's making the trip," he added, trying for casual. Jack's imagination had already presented him with several reasons why Martha might want to check Ianto out in person, all of which made his gut clench.

"She did mention a theory," Ianto said cheerfully. "She's hoping a personal appearance might head off a few dozen phone calls."

Jack's gut unclenched. He didn't fancy being on the receiving end of a lecture from Martha, but it was a far better outcome than the others spinning through his head. "I'm not that bad," he defended himself.

"Yes you are," Ianto countered, eyebrows arching into peaks.

They stared each other down for a moment, before Ianto's eyes dropped.

"I kind of like it," he confessed, smiling a shy smile that had Jack's lips turning up in response. "But it would be nice if Martha can convince you I won't dissolve in the first shower of rain. It's only a couple of cracked ribs, after all." Ianto leaned across the desk, close enough that Jack could feel the flutter of breath on his face. "And I miss being out in the field with you, Jack."

Jack inhaled the heady scent of _his_ Welshman and swallowed heavily. "I miss having you there," he admitted. He clearly remembered the hollowness of today's victory when he'd turned to the empty spot beside him where Ianto had always been. But as Jack's looked into the depthless blue eyes before him the yearning drowned in fear at how easily field work could render that very spot permanently vacant. "I do, but….oh hell, Ianto….."

Through the open door Mickey's voice rose and it was typical of their muddled relationship that both men seized eagerly on the escape from pending sentiment.

"He's through," Ianto reported.

Jack angled his head to catch the sound better. "Sounds like he's got the translator on-line, too."

They listened as Mickey explained politely to the freighter pilot that Alpha Centauri was about four-and-a-half light years _that _way and would they kindly reset their navigation gear and get the hell out of the system before people started aiming missiles.

"Tosh used to do that," Ianto said fondly.

"Without the 'hell' part," Jack agreed.

They smiled sadly at each other, lost in memories.

"It might be worth seeing if Mickey can reinstate Tosh's process for diverting the Rift monitor to my wrist-strap," Jack said eventually, having successfully controlled the impulse to drag Ianto into his lap for a spot of mutual consolation, the un-subtlety of which would annoy Ianto every bit as much as it satisfied Jack. There would be time for that later, and it would be all the better for not having to rush. Not that Jack had any objections to a quickie now and extended consolation later…..And what was it he'd been talking about? Oh yes. Rift monitoring. "Gwen's going to stay tonight, but with only three of us it's getting a bit much keeping the Hub manned all hours."

Ianto nodded slowly. "I always expect the Rift to spit out something huge the nights we can't cover," he agreed. "I'll ask Mickey to try. I doubt it'll be a problem. He cracked Owen's weevil program, after all."

Their eyes met again, now suspiciously bright from the burden of unshed tears.

"They took so much with them, didn't they?" Ianto asked, failing to contain the quiver in his voice. Jack's hand snaked across the desk, and Ianto grasped it tightly, squeezing until his breathing returned to normal. Nothing more was said, nothing more was needed. Grief reared its head at unexpected moments and at least they both knew how the other preferred to handle it.

Accordingly, Jack released Ianto's hand the instant it began to twitch within his own.

"Have you found Mickey somewhere to stay?" Jack asked, as though there hadn't been an interruption.

Ianto nodded. "We've got three safe houses empty. I thought I could let him look at all of them and choose for himself." Out in the Hub, Mickey stretched, rose and waved.

"And it looks like he's ready to start the inspection," Ianto added, rising to his own feet. "You don't mind if we head off now, do you?"

"Of course not," Jack agreed, hoping it didn't sound forced. "You might as well get him to drop you home afterwards. No point coming back."

"OK, if you're sure," Ianto agreed. "I'll see you at home then." He paused at the doorway. "Jack?"

Jack looked up. "Hmm?"

"Thanks," Ianto said awkwardly, flapping a hand in an awkward gesture encompassing the desk, grief and gratitude all at once.

"My pleasure," Jack said grandly, falling back on banter to cover the awkwardness.

It worked. Ianto actually managed a chuckle.

"Not you too," he said with mock concern. "Gwen's suddenly started thanking me for everything, and now you're trotting out the old-world courtesy. Don't know if I can cope with all this appreciation."

Jack smiled vaguely in return, his mind busy reciting his entire vocabulary of profanities. Which kept him busy for long enough to calm down somewhat. He thought he'd sorted this. But if Gwen was behaving awkwardly around Ianto, it was only a matter of time before she decided to 'talk it through' with him as well. Jack shuddered at the thought. Gwen attempting to assure Ianto that she wasn't a threat wouldn't help matters in the slightest. Ianto would be embarrassed at the least, humiliated at the worst, and Jack didn't even want to consider how he'd take it that Jack had spoken to Gwen instead of him.

Jack sighed. Only one thing for it. He'd have to get to Ianto before Gwen did, which meant tonight. Bloody hell, they'd had an agonizing 'talk' last night, surely they'd earned an evening off?

Bloody relationships, no wonder he'd avoided them for so long. Jack was utterly lousy at this crap, and it wasn't the first time he'd wondered if it was all really worth it. All this fear, all this uncertainty, for a few fleeting years of joy – if he was lucky.

Jack reached for his coat. He needed a roof. He needed perspective. The stars were constant, he was constant. Ianto wasn't and it was past time Jack came to terms with that. Maybe it would be better to let Ianto go now, before he got in any deeper, or made more of a fool of himself than he already had.

But his eyes followed Ianto as he left the Hub with Mickey. The green-eyed demon that had recently taken unwelcome residence in Jack's gut stirred. Ianto shoved Mickey playfully, laughing at whatever the overly charming young bloke had said, and that was all it took to bring the demon awake and roaring. Jack swore silently. He couldn't pretend to himself that he didn't do jealousy, not any more. Not with his hands clenching into fists as he fought the ridiculous impulse to tear Mickey's hands away as they clapped Ianto on the back.

Ianto was _his_. He couldn't let him go. They'd come so far from where they'd been only a month ago. They could go the rest of the distance. Of course it was worth it.

But damn it, did it have to hurt this much?


	36. Valentine's Day 7

**I've left this fic way too long, for which I offer this dose of fluff in apology. Also because there's only so much angst a fic can stand before it hides in a corner and cries.**

Jack approached flat with a smile on his lips. He'd had places that he'd called 'home' several times in his long life, but it was a rarity for him to experience the feeling which went along with the word. All those years waiting for the Doctor had taught him to shy away from becoming too attached to any one place. Even during his brief marriage, Torchwood kept him away so often it felt cruel to expect Sarah to live in an empty house, waiting for him to come back, so they'd had rooms in her parents' home, instead.

With a wave of nostalgia, Jack concluded that the Tardis was probably his last real 'home'. He smiled at the memories, until reality crashed back down on him. The Tardis stopped being home the instant it labeled him 'wrong' and fled from his presence.

Still, now he had this place. An unpretentious two-bedroom flat on the third floor of an ordinary looking building in an equally unremarkable street. Testament to Ianto's ability to blend into the background. Not, one would think, the sort of setting for the determinedly larger-than-life leader of Torchwood. Yet, as Jack pushed the door open, he could almost feel the very walls extending a welcoming embrace. He shook his head at his own foolishness and ignored the way the faint screech of hinges seemed to whisper a greeting, too.

It was quiet inside, and dark. No sign of Ianto, and the sense of welcome diminished rapidly. It was just a place to live, after all, unless the one who _made_ it home was safely inside the walls with him.

Jack checked his watch. He'd attended an alert before leaving the Hub, but it wasn't late enough that Ianto would have given up waiting for him and gone to bed already. Unless, Jack thought, with an accompanying upsurge of spirits, bed was where Ianto had chosen to wait.

But Ianto wasn't in bed. Ianto wasn't in the shower. Ianto wasn't home. Jack paced around the flat, unable to settle, forbidding himself to go looking for his lover. Reminding himself quite firmly that it was very unlikely that Ianto was in any danger, that even if something had gone wrong, Ianto was quite capable of looking after himself and that Ianto was, furthermore, with Mickey, who would likely take as good care of Ianto as Jack would himself. And Jack was grateful for that, not jealous.

Unfortunately, Jack didn't believe any of it.

Midway through his third restless circuit around the flat it finally occurred to Jack that a simple phone call would either settle his mind or give him an excuse to act. He'd hardly gotten the phone out of his pocket before he was smiling again, if somewhat wryly. Either Ianto knew him way too well or he was simply as efficient in his personal life as he was in everything else - there was a text message waiting.

-XXX-

Ianto padded along the hallway buzzing with a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation. He knew Jack wouldn't have approved of him accompanying Mickey on the alert Gwen called through, but the thought of staying behind hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd quieted his conscience with an uninformative _Errand to run, be home soon _text to Jack and accompanied Mickey with the sense of years rolling back. He'd felt like a teenager again, sending that text. A teenager pretending to do homework at a mate's place while they smoked stolen cigarettes under a bridge somewhere and scoffed a pack of peppermints before sneaking back home.

The hell with it, though. Ianto reminded himself that he'd done nothing wrong. He'd done his duty, in fact. He was a Torchwood agent, and he'd responded to an alert in the company of another agent. There hadn't even been any heavy lifting involved, which was Jack's latest excuse for keeping Ianto hub-bound. And the creatures they'd collected were probably the least dangerous in the universe. Unless they really were Tribbles, and there were Klingons about. Ianto wasn't even sure Klingons existed. Might have to ask Jack. Only then he'd have to tell Jack where he'd been.

Ianto hesitated at the doorway, twisting his key slowly in the lock, still feeling like that misbehaving teenager creeping home. This was ridiculous. It was _Jack _on the other side of the door. Jack, the leader of Torchwood, who would surely have frowned on Ianto leaving Mickey to attend an alert alone. All well and good, except that Jack wasn't only his boss anymore, even if they hadn't exactly defined the boundaries yet. Ianto sighed as he pushed the door open. He really didn't want another confrontation. They'd had more than enough of those, lately.

Ianto pushed the door open slowly. A scent far too appetizing to be takeaway wafted from the kitchen and into his nostrils. A smile crept across his face as the tension drained from his muscles. He was home and so was Jack. And Jack was cooking. That was nice. Unexpected, but nice.

Ianto stepped through the doorway and smirked at the sight before him. Jack was in front of the stove, stirring the source of the good smells with a wooden spoon. Quite the picture of domesticity. Ianto bit his tongue to prevent a laugh escaping. The only thing missing was the frilly apron.

"This might well be the sexiest sight I've ever seen," Ianto drawled.

Jack spun to face him. No apron, but there was a tea towel over his shoulder. Nearly as good.

"Wait until you see what I can do with an eggbeater," Jack responded.

Amid mutual laughter they met halfway across the kitchen for a leisurely greeting.

"Pumpkin-flavored Jack, one of my very favorite kinds," Ianto approved, leaning back in for another taste.

Jack detached himself reluctantly and returned to his stirring. "Pumpkin risotto," he corrected. "In the spirit of the ever more futile 'eat more vegetables' campaign." He dipped the spoon into the pot and offered it to Ianto. "Have a taste from the source," he directed.

Ianto tasted, swallowed and went for a rummage in the pantry.

"Pine nuts," he announced, waving a container.

Jack assumed a pose of mock offence. "My efforts not good enough, then?"

"Constructive criticism should be welcomed," Ianto lectured. "And as they say, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen."

Both men were smiling hard enough to crack their faces by now. Childish banter, just what they both needed. Deep and meaningful discussions hovered in both their minds, where they could wait while more important, or at least more pleasant, matters were dealt with.

"If you want nuts in your risotto, pine or otherwise," Jack announced, "you can put 'em in yourself."

Ianto frowned deeply, but his eyes sparkled. The gauntlet had been thrown, and he was more than ready to take on the challenge. "But you're in the way," he complained.

"Ever heard of tackling?" Jack asked throatily.

Ianto pounced. His preferred method of tackling, however, would have seen him sidelined for an entire season.

Ianto pulled away after less than a minute, ending the embrace all too soon, in Jack's opinion. A situation he tried valiantly to address.

"We should eat first," Ianto suggested, somewhat breathlessly. "Or it'll be ruined."

"Let it simmer," Jack growled.

"It's risotto, Jack, not stew," Ianto reminded him. "It'll get gluggy."

"Why'd you start something you weren't gonna finish?" Jack asked, pout much in evidence.

Ianto grinned triumphantly and pointed to the neglected pot on the stove. Pine nuts dotted the surface.

"You might have won that battle," Jack conceded, "but the war isn't over."

Skirmishing continued throughout the meal. Both men were grinning and breathless by the time Ianto began collecting the plates.

"Wash or dry?" he asked.

"Haven't we got a dishwasher?" Jack demanded.

"I'm not going to run it for two plates and one pot, Jack," Ianto said, sounding so scandalized Jack couldn't help but smile.

Ianto dodged a pair of reaching arms and began running water into the sink. Jack watched fondly, wasted a moment wishing they could have more evenings like this, then stepped close enough to wrap himself around the scullery boy. He felt more than saw the slight wince at the pressure against newly-healed ribs, and slid one arm upwards, stopping when he could feel the steady thud beneath his palm.

"You don't have to keep checking," Ianto teased. "I'm sure there'd be other signs if it actually stops beating."

"Avoids the ribs," Jack explained, resting his chin on the younger man's shoulder, which was comfortable – for him at least, and didn't seem to hamper the washing up. "And…"

"And?" Ianto prompted.

"Something I can't remember," Jack admitted, the frustration evident both in his tone and the sudden tension of the body plastered against Ianto's back. "It means something, and I can't remember what. It's driving me crazier than I already am."

Ianto tensed too. This was dangerous territory. A century-and-a-half made for more memories than the human mind could reasonably be expected to retain. Add – or subtract – the two years the Time Agency stole, who-knew-how-much Retcon, not to mention the effect of centuries underground, and gaps in Jack's memory seemed inevitable. Which didn't help Jack in the least, so he'd stopped saying it. And however wistful Ianto felt about the fact that Jack's memories of him would one day go the same way, he'd promised himself never to mention it.

"Don't worry at it," Ianto suggested instead. "It'll come back if it's important."

Jack huffed his annoyance into Ianto's ear, and then found much more interesting things to do with both the ear and his mouth.

"Leave the dishes," he mumbled.

"I was always a fan of air-drying," Ianto agreed, tossing the tea-towel towards the rack, and not caring in the least that it missed.

-XXX-

"Jack?" Ianto asked, in a completely different tone to the one he normally used at this stage of breathlessness.

Jack looked up with glazed eyes. "You've got a question _now?_"

"Just one," Ianto promised. "Then I swear I'll…ah….concentrate fully on the matter in hand."

Jack dropped back against the pillows. He hadn't imagined it. Ianto's mind wasn't where it should be, which was kind of reassuring. No need to worry that his technique was slipping, after all.

"This evening," Ianto said, gathering the wits scattered by Jack's recent ministrations. "All the playing about…was it because you were trying _not_ to tell me something?"

The scariest thing about that sentence was Jack understood it completely.

"Yep," Jack admitted. Damn the man, could he read minds now? Jack mentally waved farewell to an evening that had begun with so much promise.

Ianto smiled broadly and surprised him again. "Me too."

Jack contemplated it for all of five seconds before deciding that whatever the hell it was Ianto wanted to tell him, it could wait. "Nice to know we're on the same page," Jack said placidly. "Now you said something about concentrating?"

Ianto nodded. "Later then?"

"Later," Jack agreed. "Now where were we?"

Ianto slid back into his arms. "Right here, I think."


	37. Valentine's Day 8

**Sorry for the delay again. Don't know what to blame, because it can't be writer's block if it's written but it isn't good enough, now can it? Anyway here 'tis, the next chapter, where the Weevils continue to behave unWeevil-like and interfere with everyone's plans.**

* * *

Mickey sighed with contentment as he settled back against the headrest. Torchwood certainly wasn't stingy. This was a nice place. Not flashy, but neat and clean. Not luxurious, but equipped with little luxuries. Such as having a television in the bedroom, if only a small portable.

He took a swig from his beer and set the bottle back onto the coaster on the bedside table, smiling as he did so. Coasters. They'd be Ianto's idea, he reckoned.

The murder mystery on-screen was approaching its conclusion when Mickey's mobile rang.

"Smith," he answered briskly.

"Hi Mickey, it's Gwen. I need help rounding up some Weevils."

Mickey looked mournfully at the rest of his beer. When he'd agreed to be first call out, he'd assumed that meant first _after _whoever was manning the Hub. Evidently Gwen didn't see it that way. Mickey could easily picture her with her fancy boots up on the desk while he trailed after Weevils in the dark. And she'd already called him in once tonight, fun though that'd been. Mickey adjusted his mental picture to include a Tribble singing in the background and sighed as he felt around for the shoes he'd discarded at the end of the bed.

"What's up?" he asked, clamping down on the glimmer of annoyance. Weevils weren't such a big deal. Couldn't she just buzz past 'em in the SUV and send them packing like he'd done last night?

"I'm out where we released those Weevils today," Gwen answered. "And there are a dozen of them around the SUV. I can't get away without driving right them."

Fair enough then. She'd already attended, and they weren't running from the SUV anymore. Mickey flipped off the TV. Didn't really matter, he thought philosophically. He'd picked 'whodunnit' by the second ad-break. And, he remembered with a grin, Ianto had negotiated him a special rate for after-hours call-outs.

"On my way," Mickey answered.

Gwen's breath hitched in his ear, and the ominous rattle in the background had Mickey on his feet, shoving his phone in his pocket and hooking his Torchwood Bluetooth device around his ear as he took the stairs three at a time. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Hurry Mickey," Gwen said, her voice betraying edges of panic she'd concealed so far. "I think they're trying to get in."

-XXX-

Ianto climbed back into bed, still slightly damp from the shower he hadn't invited Jack to share, _and_ wearing pyjama bottoms. Jack sighed at the avalanche of unspoken evidence that their conspiracy of avoidance was over, and trudged off to his own solitary shower.

Ianto was still awake when Jack finished. Awake, waiting, and radiating a far different variety of expectation to the one that usually accompanied Jack's return to bed.

"You said Gwen was behaving oddly towards you today," Jack began, having decided on the 'grit your teeth and get it over with' approach.

Ianto nodded against Jack's chest. "Being excruciatingly polite," he agreed. "Is _that_ what's bothering you?" He laughed softly, the vibrations against Jack's chest tempting him toward renewed attempts at distraction. "It's no big deal, Jack," Ianto continued placidly. "She was probably just putting on a show for Mickey's benefit."

Jack looked down into the trusting blue eyes and ached to accept the escape he was being offered. It would be so easy to laugh it off together, but that would only delay the confrontation, not avoid it. Not with Gwen showing all the signs of being on some sort of mission to 'put things right'.

The ringing of his phone seemed to be a gift from the gods of mischief who delighted in ruining every one of Jack's good intentions. It was Gwen's ring tone, too, which was hardly going to help matters. Jack decided impulsively to ignore it, and turned back to Ianto, who looked from him to the phone with raised eyebrows.

"You should answer it, Jack," he pointed out gently. "Gwen's manning the Hub tonight. It's probably important."

The ringing stopped. Jack tried to smile at Ianto with the triumph he should be feeling, but he could help feeling torn instead. He'd had to fail as Gwen's boss in order to avoid failing his lover. Was this how Gwen felt when Torchwood called her away from Rhys? Which inevitably led to wondering whether Ianto would start resenting him as much as Rhys did.

The phone began ringing again.

"This is ridiculous," Ianto said impatiently. "If you don't answer it, I will."

Jack's smile became genuine. Ianto would never make him choose. Jack reached for the phone, but retracted his hand again as inspiration struck.

"She was supposed to call Mickey first," Jack said triumphantly. "I remember that distinctly. You wrangled him penalty rates if he agreed to be first callout. So if ignore this, she'll call him like she was supposed to."

Ianto looked away, a light blush rising to his cheeks. "She's already done that," he said. "Mickey took the last alert."

Jack eyed him suspiciously as his phone ratcheted up to a louder volume. "And just how do you know that, Ianto?"

The gods of mischief intervened again as Ianto's phone started shrilling as well.

-XXX-

"He shouldn't have called you," Jack grumbled, as the two of them piled into Ianto's car.

Ianto was in the driver's seat. He hadn't let Jack drive his car since the time Jack damaged it accidentally-on-purpose, in the hopes that Ianto would replace the nondescript sedan with a setting more suited to a beautiful Welshman. But Ianto was ridiculously devoted to it. Even after finding out that John had died in the damned car, Ianto merely shrugged and announced that carbon monoxide was nothing compared to all the cryo-corpses the car had transported. Jack sometimes wondered if it would make a difference if Ianto knew _he'd_ died in it as well, but he wasn't stupid enough to find out. Ianto harbored quite enough resentment over the times Jack sacrificed himself to save someone else. Jack didn't want to contemplate the wrath that would descend if Ianto ever discovered he let himself die just to keep John company.

"Mickey only called me because you were ignoring Gwen," Ianto pointed out.

"But you didn't have to come along. I could have managed," Jack persisted.

Ianto sighed and pulled neatly into a gap in the traffic. "Yeah, I should have left you to handle the mental Weevils all by yourself."

"I'm not going to_ be_ by myself," Jack argued. "Gwen and Mickey are both there."

"Trapped in their vehicles with Weevils trying to get in," Ianto pointed out. "They're only safe if they don't get out of the cabin. And if that happened, I wouldn't put it past one of the Weevils to hop in and drive off, the way they've been acting lately."

Jack chuckled. He couldn't help it, given the visual of a Weevil at the wheel of the SUV. "Do you suppose they'd understand the road rules?"

"Doesn't stop the Blowfish," Ianto parried.

"Good point," Jack conceded. "But I still wish you'd stayed home."

Ianto reached across and squeezed Jack's hand. "I promise not to carry any of them," he said solemnly. "No heavy lifting until Martha says otherwise. See, I remembered."

Jack grunted and tightened his grip on the hand within his, stretching his fingers so he could brush them over the spot where a pulse beat beneath the skin, relishing the warmth, relishing the life, willing away the fear. He knew Ianto was humoring him, trying to lighten the mood, but the fear that gripped Jack every time Ianto was in danger wouldn't lighten. All he could do was to pretend he was coping, while protecting his beloved Welshman however he could.

While Ianto seemed hell-bent on putting himself in danger.

"So how did you know Mickey's already been out on an alert tonight?" Jack asked.

"Because I went with him," Ianto answered promptly, then winced as Jack's hand clamped around his own. "The alert wasn't far from the house Mickey decided to move into," Ianto explained soothingly. "It would've been silly for Gwen to attend when we were right there. And it would've wasted time to drop me home first, apart from being unnecessary. And patronising."

Jack made a noncommittal noise and stared out of the windscreen, with a level of concentration which would have been excessive even if he was driving.

"And there was no heavy lifting involved," Ianto finished piously.

Jack sighed. He wanted to object, but he couldn't find even the slightest shred of justification. "What was the alert, then?" he asked, with a certain amount of resignation.

"Are we debriefing?" Ianto asked impishly, pun obviously intended. "In the car?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Jack answered, not fighting the smile. He knew Ianto was managing him again, but he couldn't bring himself to mind when it made him feel so much better. Jack knew he should be disturbed by that, but he wasn't. Actually, he kind of liked it. Which should be even more disturbing. And wasn't. He was totally screwed.

Ianto spared him a blinding smile before focusing back on the road. They'd be approaching the exit soon, and it was easy to miss.

Jack nodded. "So," he prompted. "Your escapades with Mickey tonight?"

Ianto took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Half a dozen benign life-forms," he began, in a businesslike voice totally at odds with the teasing of seconds before. "We haven't encountered them before, at least, not in any of the documentation I've located. But given their appearance we've tentatively decided to name them Tribbles."

"Tribbles," Jack repeated. "As per _Star Trek_?" Star Trek. The original one. Sixties. James T Kirk in a snug uniform. Good memories. But Tribbles, now, of the vast array of badly-faked aliens, which ones were Tribbles?

Ianto smirked across at him. "Pygmy Puffs would've done as well, but since you stubbornly refuse to read Harry Potter, they wouldn't hold the same significance."

Jack applied an admonitory swat to wherever his hand could reach, then left it there, because it felt good. Soft and warm. Ianto had lots of soft places, Jack mused happily, before berating himself for getting off track. Tribbles. Tribbles were…..oh yeah, those. Cute. Harmless. Jack relaxed. Ianto had been in no danger. This time. "Tribbles will do fine," Jack approved. "Their real name's pretty much unpronounceable, anyway."

Ianto felt the tension disappear from the hand currently grasping his leg and only realised how tense he'd been himself as he felt the knots in his back untwist. At least _this _wouldn't end in an argument.

"You know them, then?" Ianto prompted.

"I think so," Jack agreed. "Certain types of freighters carry them, like ships cats. They repel pests, and they're supposed to bring good luck. What happened to them?"

"Last I saw they were singing to Gwen in the Hub. She was cooing and calling Rhys."

"No, she can't keep one," Jack said instantly. "Nor can we. Or Mickey. Have I covered everyone?"

"We knew you'd say that," Ianto complained. He released an exaggerated sigh then swerved into the exit.

Jack smiled fondly and thumbed his ear-pierce. "We're nearly there, guys," he announced. "What's happening?"

"They've settled down," Gwen answered, her voice much firmer than it'd been on the phone. "But they're still standing around both the SUV and Mickey's van."

"They look like a protest line," Mickey put in. "Like those tree-huggers. Maybe they think we're bulldozers."

Even across the comms, Gwen heard the intake of breath as Jack prepared for what she was certain would be a reprimand for flippancy. It was unfair, how strict Jack was with Mickey. They weren't in any immediate danger, and Jack had_ never_ been like this with Owen. But then, he hadn't been jealous of Owen. _Not even when Owen was sleeping with me,_ prompted the little voice in Gwen's head that she wasn't going to listen to anymore.

"It does look like that," Gwen agreed quickly. "It sounds crazy, but I think they're trying to stop us leaving."

Jack looked enquiringly across at Ianto, and received a shrug in answer. Weevils had never been easy to predict. Jack sighed. "We'll be there in a couple of minutes," he said. "Sit tight. We'll try to run them off so you guys can move."

He killed the comms and looked across at Ianto.

"Sounds like they're relatively safe for the moment," Ianto commented. "So what do you want to do with the Tribbles, then?"

"We'll start scanning for freighters tomorrow," Jack decided. "Find someone to adopt them."

"_Torchwood _could adopt them," Ianto persisted. "If they can survive in freighters, they can survive in the Hub, yeah?"

Jack squeezed Ianto's leg in reproof. "They only thrive in low gravity," he said firmly. "If we keep them in the Hub, we'll shorten their life-spans."

Ianto pouted. He did it very well, too. "Why do we only get to keep stuff with claws?" he grumbled.

Jack turned his gaze away from the pout before it weakened him, and stared through the windscreen again, looking up to where the stars blazed valiantly through the layers of pollution. "I want to send them home, Ianto," he said softly.

Ianto felt all his arguments collapse into a lump in his stomach. "Of course you do," he agreed, around the matching lump in his throat. "It's perfectly reasonable, given…."

An indefinable sense of hurt washed through Jack. Hurt, and guilt. He thought they'd sorted this. But it was obvious Ianto _still_ believed Jack would rather be back the fifty-first century than here, with him. Second choice again. Or third, or fourth… Jack wondered sadly if he'd ever undo the damage his unthinking neglect had caused. Not, he concluded, unless he made the effort….

"I've gotten sort of sentimental about homes lately," Jack interrupted. "Now that I've got one of my own again."

Ianto glanced across in what might have been shock, but was definitely tempered by something much softer. Jack's heart gave a happy bound, just like one of those stupid bunnies on the greeting cards. Yeah, he'd gone sentimental all right, but it wasn't the architecture that had done it.

They rounded a bend and the headlights of the SUV stabbed out to meet them. Ianto killed the car's headlights and rolled to a stop, hoping to avoid alerting the Weevil's to the presence of another vehicle. Ianto was glad they'd arrived, because it was hard to drive with his eyes misting up. "Sap," he accused, blinking furiously.

"Yep," Jack agreed. The snap of his seat belt being released sounded very loud in the confines of the car. But instead of leaping through the door, he leaned across.

"They're waiting," Ianto prompted, his own hand reaching for the door.

"And they can wait a minute more," Jack murmured. "Or two."

-XXX-

"Oh that's bloody marvelous, that is," Mickey grumbled into his earpiece. "We've got half a dozen Weevils trying to hitch a lift and our mighty rescuers keep us waiting while they snog each others faces off."

"Be thankful they're stopping at that," Gwen answered dryly, stuck between annoyance and laughter. But when Ianto's door opened, then closed again with a dull thud, laughter won out. The Weevils weren't being threatening any more. After the initial attempts, they'd obviously worked out the vehicles weren't going to open by banging on them. Now they were just waiting, as patiently as Weevils _could _wait, for whatever purpose their addled Weevil brains had driven them out here for.

"And have a heart, Mickey," Gwen added. "Given how long Jack took to answer the phone, they were probably…." At which point she realised what she was saying. And to whom. She didn't really know Mickey that well, at least, she hadn't before tonight. "I mean, it _is _Jack we're talking about…..so he would have been….and when we rang, well, we might have….um…."

Mickey grinned at his dashboard. There nothing like being bailed up by a load of Weevils to give you a fresh perspective. Yesterday he'd thought Gwen was a bit of a stuffed shirt. _And_ he'd thought she was trying to steal his old mate Jack away from his new mate Ianto. But Mickey had seen a new side of Gwen tonight. She was a top bird, really. He'd never have known she was in the middle of a pack of Weevils from her voice earlier. Strong, she was. Brave. And it looked like she could be a bit of a laugh, too.

He listened with the grin spreading, as Gwen tried to stammer to the end of her sentence, then took pity on her and broke in.

"You reckon we interrupted them," Mickey finished diplomatically. "Yeah, fair enough then. But they better emerge from that car dressed, or I'm gonna have something to say. Loudly."

Gwen giggled. The mental image was quite appealing, but she could just imagine Ianto's expression if he'd heard.

"Ianto has far more decorum than that," Gwen said primly, before her composure cracked. "And it's cold enough for Jack to think twice as well. Because….you know…..the cold tends to….shrink….things…"

They were laughing hard enough to hear each other without the comms. Even the Weevils shifted uneasily at the noise level, and Gwen was pretty sure she could hear Welsh sounds of outrage seeping across the clearing. Obviously Ianto thought they were laughing at him, and he wasn't far wrong.

She was terribly glad Ianto and Jack hadn't been on the comms though. Ianto would have been offended, and Jack would have been encouraged, and they'd end up stuck in this clearing all night. With Weevil chaperones.

Working for Torchwood was often dangerous, but that didn't stop it from being _fun_.

**Hope that was fun!**


	38. Valentine's Day 9

**A bit of fun, a bit of angst, and Weevils behaving strangely. **

* * *

Ianto pushed Jack away, breathless and blushing furiously.

"Cut it out, Jack," he hissed. "I can hear the others smirking from here!"

Jack tilted his head to one side, listening intently. "Sounds more like childish giggling to me."

"Whatever," Ianto huffed, waving one hand for emphasis while the other busily fastened the buttons Jack had managed to get undone. "I don't blame them. That was totally inappropriate. What the hell were you doing?"

Jack eyed his flustered Welshman with a teasing smile lingering on swollen lips. Ianto needed to protest in order to save face, he supposed, but the Welshman was anything but an unwilling participant.

"If you couldn't tell, I obviously need more practice," Jack teased. "But seriously," he continued, flipping from companion to commander. "You were about to leap out into a clearing full of Weevils. There were plenty of ways to stop you, but none of them quite so pleasant."

Ianto's eyes dropped. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I guess I was just…..no, doesn't matter."

Jack watched him squirm with equal parts concern and curiosity. "It's usually me who leaps into situations without thinking," he said pointedly, "And you who stops me. What's going on in that head of yours to make you act so out of character, Ianto?"

It was a rebuke, for all that it was delivered in the concerned tones of a lover, and Ianto knew better than to continue ignoring it.

"I was fired up about being on a mission with you again, and I didn't think, OK?" he admitted quickly, impatient to get it over with. "I know it was unprofessional, and I'm sorry. It's just…." He gulped, swallowed. "Like I said earlier, I miss it, Jack. Working in the field with you, I mean. I really miss it."

Jack's eyes closed, trapping the moisture within them that threatened to overflow. "Me too," he answered softly. "But I…..You….." he stopped with sigh. "Be careful, please?"

Their gazes met, and then flickered away. Jack cleared his throat and cleared the air, before either of them could choke on the sentiment flooding the vehicle. "Or I'll have to distract you again, and I'll be careful to do a more thorough job of it this time. You never know, it might be enough to scare the Weevils away. Probably more effective than this heap of…er…fine British engineering."

Ianto glowered. Jack smirked unrepentantly and tweaked his comm.

"We're going to try running them off now," he announced.

"In _that_?" Mickey asked doubtfully.

"It's quite sturdy, thank you," Ianto snapped, bristling at the further slight on his beloved vehicle.

Jack smiled beatifically across the cabin. "It should get their attention," he agreed. "Given that rattle in the engine….."

"There's no rattle," Ianto growled.

"You mean, it's _meant_ to sound like that?" Gwen asked, in an innocent tone Ianto didn't trust for a second.

Fifteen minutes later, three members of Torchwood were sagging in their seats while Ianto stared fixedly through the windscreen. The only comfort to be taken from the situation was that the tears soaking their faces were from laughter. In spite of Ianto's best, and increasing desperate, efforts, the Weevils had done no more than turn their heads enquiringly towards the rampaging sedan before disregarding it completely.

Jack recovered first. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve then reached across to peel Ianto's hands off the steering wheel, delivering a comforting squeeze with both of his own, at which Ianto unbent enough to smile ruefully. They might not always find the right words, but they spoke well like this. The language of touch accomplished more for them than any number of impassioned speeches.

"I think we can safely say they've conquered their fear of automobiles," Jack announced into the comm. "Any other ideas?"

"Well, back while you two were inspecting each others tonsils," Mickey began, and then paused to allow the various gasps and giggles to subside. "What?" he said defensively. "If you can't keep your hands off each other, you've gotta expect a reaction. Jealousy, if nothing else."

That silenced them all, for a variety of reasons. Mickey smirked to himself, well satisfied. The big buffoon image enabled him to deliver all sorts of subtle barbs, as well as ensuring no-one called him on them. Most people never looked past the surface, so they swallowed their outrage and took his digs at face value. The smirk spread into a grin as Mickey acknowledged he'd probably have a reckoning with Ianto later. That bloke wrote the book on false frontages, he'd have no problems seeing right through Mickey's.

"Anyway, while I've been stuck here," Mickey continued, more diplomatically, "I've tweaked my PDA a bit, and gotten into that Weevil database back at the Hub."

"Once a hacker, always a hacker," Jack muttered, before subsiding in the face of the withering glare Ianto sent him across the car.

"And two of that mob out there are the ones we released today," Mickey concluded.

"Maybe they're trying to reject them," Gwen suggested. "Sending them back where they came from."

"And the SUV's where they came from, you reckon?" Mickey finished. "And we used my van this morning too, when we dropped them off here. Worth considering, that is."

"Maybe," Jack agreed, doubt clear in his tone. "Though, that would suggest they've jumped a level of social evolution. Rejection usually involves maiming."

"Well, who says they can't evolve?" Gwen persisted. "And they took those two in while they were still dopey from sedatives, don't forget. If they were going to hurt them, that'd be the time, wouldn't it?"

Ianto sighed as the argument gained tempo. He could of course try to play peacemaker in the ongoing moral debate between Gwen and Jack, but for the first time since losing Tosh, he had an alternative. Ianto pushed the resulting stab of grief into the background and pulled out his own PDA.

Mickey and Ianto communicated electronically while the campaign for Weevil rights raged on around their heads.

"The two we relocated aren't amongst the ones closest to the cars," Ianto summarized, breaking into Gwen's impassioned argument for Weevilution. "There aren't any Weevils between them and the tunnel entrance, either. So they're not actually trying to get away and there's nothing stopping them from getting back in. And their vital signs are all normal, so they haven't been harmed."

"Which means you're both wrong," Mickey concluded bluntly. "No signs of rejection, violent or otherwise. Now, if no-one minds can we skip the philosophy and do something practical? There's a beer at home with my name on it going flat as we speak."

Ianto tried not to smirk as he passed his PDA across to Jack. Though, surely he owed Jack a smirk or two.

Jack's eyes flickered rapidly over the data on the small screen. "The two from this morning _are_ hanging back," he observed. "Back under those trees. So, OK, agreed, this isn't a rejection. Any suggestions?"

"We could let them in?" Gwen said hesitantly, to the whistling sounds of three sets of indrawn breaths. "No, really, can anyone think of a better way of finding out what they want?"

Mickey coughed. "Me, I'm all for it, what with all the tricks in the shield behind my passenger cab. But that SUV, Gwen, you do realize there'd be nothing between you and an unrestrained Weevil except a cargo barrier, don't you?"

"A heavily reinforced cargo barrier," Ianto supplied. "It's not an ordinary SUV, Mickey, any more than your van."

"There'll be plenty of time for you petrol heads to compare toys later," Gwen interrupted. "But I for one want to get out of here. We can't run them off, we don't want to kill them, and we can't communicate with them." Gwen's voice broke briefly, but she had the comfort of knowing that at least two of the others shared the pang she felt. The loss of Owen was a constant ache, but this was the first time she'd longed for the sardonic medic in his King of the Weevils persona. "So what's left?" Gwen concluded.

Mickey cleared his throat. "Yeah, all right," he agreed. "Let's offer these hitchhikers a ride."

Jack sighed. "Nothing else for it, I suppose," he agreed. "You can release the doors from inside the cabins, right?"

"Done," Gwen reported. "Yup," Mickey agreed. "Of course, we've still got to open them up. On the count of three, milady?"

Gwen's laugh was brave, but fragile.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack snapped. "You've got at least one each outside your driver's doors."

"The boot won't open itself, Jack," Gwen argued. "Or the van."

Jack sighed. "Give me a minute, then. Have a distraction ready."

The click as he released the safety catch on his Webley was echoed by the softer sound of the Glock from the other side of the car. Jack turned sharply to Ianto, "You stay here," he hissed.

"Bollocks, Jack," Ianto returned sharply. "You're not going out there alone."

They hadn't killed the comms, and there was an ominous lack of response from either Mickey or Gwen. Both of them, Jack thought resignedly, were leaving it to Ianto to manage Jack, because he usually could.

Jack glanced at the other two vehicles, with their ring of Weevil attendants, and his gut clenched within him. "I'm just going to open the doors, Ianto," he protested. "You can….you can make another pass at them in this. Distract them for me."

Ianto glared. "I might fall for that if they hadn't already quite blatantly ignored anything this car does," he snapped. "We'll do one door each."

Jack's mouth opened to protest, but of course now both Gwen and Mickey were quite happy to chime in.

"You take the SUV, Ianto mate," Mickey suggested. "Let Jack have the van. The door sticks a bit sometimes; it'll be harder on your ribs."

"I think we should open our driver's doors, too, just a crack," Gwen added. "It ought to bring some of them to the front."

"Blow your horns first," Ianto put in. "That'll get their attention."

Jack's mind fought with his heart. It felt right; all of them working together like this. But to have Ianto running the gauntlet of those Weevils, with their teeth and claws…To maybe have to watch from the other side of the clearing…..

A hand rested lightly on his arm. "Straight back here after," Ianto said softly. "No heroics."

Jack closed his eyes, swallowed, and forced his head to nod. "Be careful." His voice firmed. "All of you. If they show any aggression, shoot. That's an order. No messing around, no stun guns. Understood?"

"Understood," Ianto agreed. The confirmation echoed from across the comms. "Us too," Mickey agreed. "And we'll cover you both, if we need to."

"I'll have no hesitation running right over the lot of them if they try to hurt either of you," Gwen added, unexpectedly fierce. "I'm not losing anyone else."

Jack couldn't help smiling. "I'll survive, Gwen. You know I will."

Gwen snorted. Actually snorted. "You've already died twice this week, Jack, that we know of anyway. You've filled your quota, so the no heroics rule applies to you, too."

"Hear Hear," Ianto mumbled.

"It's a mutiny," Mickey commented. "Sucks to be you mate. You've got two wives, and you aren't even married."

"I'm not _his_ wife," Gwen parried.

"I'm not the wife," Ianto said, at the exact same time.

Jack accepted it philosophically. He was probably due to be the brunt of the teasing. This was the Torchwood equivalent of banging spears against shields. The prelude to the battle.

"On three," he announced.

-XXX-

"And that," Mickey announced, his voice echoed across the eerily silent clearing. "Was the dictionary definition of anticlimax. We could load it to Wikipedia."

Gwen sighed, a gravelly, breathy sound, born of equal parts exhaustion and frustration. "Is anyone else thinking we could have left them to it," she agreed. "And that they'd still have been here in the morning, waiting patiently? It's mad, this is."

"Hey, the plan worked," Jack offered brightly.

And it had. The sounding of horns caught the Weevils attention, all of them looking to the source of the noise exactly as a pet dog will do at the sound of cutlery scraping against plates. No one had anticipated the effect of the cabin lights shining as Gwen and Mickey opened their doors, but the burst of light had the Weevils scrambling. Working strangely in concert, the creatures surrounding each vehicle banded together to lift one of their number and attempt to throw it bodily through the rapidly closing gaps.

Weevils cry when they bounce off reinforced metal. Something for the database.

Neither Jack nor Ianto fired a single shot. They each opened their assigned door and were safely inside the sedan while the Weevils were still howling their frustration at the hastily secured front doors.

Shortly thereafter, the Weevils regrouped, heaved their somewhat battered targets into the invitingly open cargo bays….and dispersed. Vanished back into the tunnels.

"We….um….ought to close the doors, I suppose," Ianto suggested.

"Should we flood the backs with sedative first?" Gwen asked.

"We've gotten this far without," Jack declared. "We're a bit late to start thinking sensibly." Before anyone even thought to stop him, he was back out into the clearing, slamming the doors shut on their inhabitants.

"What was that about no heroics?" Mickey asked mildly.

"Jack's orders seldom apply to Jack," Gwen answered, her own annoyance palpable.

Jack returned to the car only to face the full force of Ianto's best death glare. Jack smiled at his lover with a complete lack of repentance. "Had to work off the adrenaline somehow," he said.

Gwen gasped. Mickey laid his head on his steering wheel and tried to hold back the pained laughter. It was crazy how both of them knew exactly how a big a mistake that was, yet Jack didn't have a clue. They waited with baited breath for the response.

Ianto muted his comm. and leaned across the cabin. "Just as well," he hissed. "Because after that stunt you won't be working it off on me."

Given that Jack hadn't muted his own comm, the others still heard every word. Muffled laughter escaped before either could stop it, but for once Ianto was too annoyed to be bothered by it. He was even somewhat relieved at the evidence that his teammates were with him on this one.

It was totally unfair that Jack persisted in his attempts to wrap Ianto in cotton wool, but refused to rein in the impulses which, in someone slightly more mortal, would definitely fall within the 'exhibits suicidal tendencies' category.

"We've got two Weevils to relocate," Ianto announced crisply, ignoring the puppy-dog eyes battering him from across the cabin. "And if you'll excuse a bit of speculation on my part, I'd suggest we take them back to where you found the original two."

"Rebalancing the populations, huh?" Gwen said thoughtfully.

"Dispersing the gene pool," Mickey added. "Yeah, good idea."

"Let's do it," Jack decided. Ordering the team to take action they'd already decided on was a cheap way of reasserting his authority, but he'd take cheap if that was all that was on offer.

And on the other end of the spectrum, he had an extremely angry Ianto to placate. Which, Jack had to admit, was amongst the low numbers on his personal list of favorite activities.

Jack waited until the others had left the clearing. Waited until they'd confirmed that the un-sedated Weevils weren't causing any problems in the moving vehicles.

Waited until Ianto looked at him. And smiled. His very best smile, the one he'd started saving for Ianto.

Ianto averted his eyes and wondered how long he'd last before crumbling. Hopefully a bit longer than usual. His annoyance was completely justified, this time.

Jack muted his comm., quite pointedly, and waited with raised eyebrows until Ianto did the same.

"I love it when you take charge," Jack murmured, slowly sliding closer.

Ianto transferred the wandering hand from his leg back to Jack's. There was a point to be made here, and he had no illusions about his capacity for rational thought while Jack was touching him.

Jack pouted. When that didn't work either, he finally began to get worried.

"C,mon, Ianto, look at me," he coaxed. "Say something. Anything. Hell, yell if you want. But not this."

"I don't want to yell," Ianto said. "I've had enough arguing with you, especially when it's obviously not going to make a blind bit of difference. Just put on your seatbelt so we can leave. I don't want to keep the others waiting again."

The seatbelt remained stubbornly in its holder. Jack arms remained stubbornly crossed.

"Fine," Ianto said, through gritted teeth. "I'm fed up of you nagging me about staying safe when you keep pulling stunts like that." He finally turned to face Jack, and Jack actually shrank back against his seat at the cold fury in Ianto's face. "We'd gotten out of it without a scratch, Jack. Why can you never be content with that? Why do you always have to push it? Do you really need to be the centre of attention _that _badly?"

Jack blinked eyes which had become suspiciously itchy. Angry Ianto was one thing, and not altogether a bad one. Disappointed Ianto was a totally different prospect.

Jack sighed and reached for Ianto's hand. "I'm sorry?" he offered tentatively.

Ianto unbent enough to squeeze the hand, albeit briefly. Jack retreated back into his own seat and fastened his belt with a grand show of meekness.

Ianto shook his head and started the engine. "Sure you are," he muttered. "Mind, you'd have probably been a whole lot sorrier if they'd had a go while you were out there. Especially after the rest of us dived in after you."

The resultant chill went right to Jack's toes. He could feel it through the very soles of his feet, as though the floor beneath him had suddenly turned to ice.

"You wouldn't have," he faltered. The image of coming back from death to find Ianto's broken body draped over him was vivid, and terrifying. "You wouldn't do that, Ianto…It'd be stupid….reckless…You wouldn't do that to me…." at which he faltered to a halt, floundering in the sea of his own hypocrisy.

"You're right," Ianto answered quietly. "I wouldn't."

They spent the rest of the journey contemplating the fact that they hadn't escaped an argument tonight, after all.

**Err, yeah, sorry about that. Laying foundations. It'll get worse before it gets better, but it will get better, promise.**


	39. Valentine's Day 10

**Here's a novelty, I don't need to apolgise for a delay in updating! **

**Not much Weevil action in this chapter, but we do have some more stags butting antlers. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Not long after they'd left the clearing, Mickey's voice sounded over the comms. For the first time on this mission Jack was glad he wasn't driving. There was a distinct possibility he would have banged his head on the steering wheel when Mickey announced that the Weevil in his van was getting agitated. As it was, muffled curses dropped from his lips as Gwen added that her passenger was 'a bit unsettled too'.

"Pulling off the motorway," Mickey announced curtly. "If he keeps this up he'll dent the walls. Or hurt himself. Gwen, love, have you still got that sedative spray you were talking about?"

They listened as Mickey and Gwen agreed on a meeting place. Gwen hadn't asked Jack for confirmation of the detour, he mused sourly. Hadn't even protested about the pet name. Team Mickey scores again.

"Do you want me to follow them?" Ianto asked professionally. Jack nodded crisply. He doubted Ianto even saw the gesture, given his eyes were already back on the road. At least he'd given Jack the courtesy of pretending to seek approval before following Mickey's orders. Jack supposed he should be grateful Ianto had refrained from pointing out that they wouldn't be having this problem if Jack had let them sedate the Weevils when they'd first captured them.

Ianto carefully didn't look at Jack as he followed Mickey's van into a lay-by. The SUV was already there, with Gwen leaning against a nearby tree trunk, arms wrapped around herself against the chill of the night wind. As soon as Ianto shut the engine off – and it _didn't_ rattle, really it didn't – he could clearly hear the thumping from inside the van. Gwen's Weevil wasn't as energetic, emitting only a mournful, low wail.

"They were fine until we hit the motorway," Gwen reported, as soon as the others were within earshot.

"Can't handle the speed," Mickey suggested. "So, boss, how do you want to do this?"

Jack supposed he ought to be grateful to Mickey for acknowledging his authority instead of gloating. Jack was sick of supposing he ought to be grateful. Jack _wasn't_ grateful, neither that he'd made a fool of himself in a pathetic display of what he now accepted was showing off for Ianto, nor that his team was professional enough not to rub his nose in it. It was past time to accept his error and clear the air.

"A half-shot of sedative," Jack instructed. "We don't want them out too long if we can help it. And," he continued, before Gwen had a chance respond. "I do realize that wouldn't be an issue if I'd let you sedate them when we picked them up. You told me so. Happy?"

"Did I say anything?" Gwen asked, looking around innocently.

"You _were_ thinking pretty loud," Mickey answered.

Much better. Jack hoped Ianto would join in, even if it meant taking a cheap shot. Unfortunately for his conscience, Ianto was far too professional for that. Especially when it suited him.

"Does your van have vents in the cargo area, Mickey?" Ianto asked instead.

Mickey nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Flood the air-conditioning, you reckon?"

_Bloody hell,_ Jack thought, over the sudden roaring in his ears, _now they're reading each other's minds, too?_

Ianto nodded thoughtfully back at Mickey. "Given how agitated they are, they'd probably bolt if we open the doors."

Gwen joined in eagerly. "And we keep running the airconditioning after they're out to clear the cabins. You're brilliant, Ianto."

Ianto blinked. "Er…Thanks Gwen." At which he finally looked at Jack. "I suppose you want me clear of Weevil wrangling, Sir. I'll wait in the car."

Someone who didn't know Ianto might take that as a concession. Gwen, however, winced in sympathy. "We can manage this, Jack," she offered. "Why don't you and Ianto go on ahead and scout out the release point?"

Jack merely nodded and followed Ianto. Mickey waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Gwen with a pained expression. "Ouch," he said.

Gwen shuddered. "Wasn't it though?" She laughed ruefully. "I could've yelled at Jack for hours and never made a dent." She supposed it wasn't right to sound quite so admiring.

Mickey grinned. "And Ianto says he's not the wife!"

Gwen giggled. Mickey did that to her. She really hoped he'd stay.

-XXX-

Jack loaded an address into the GPS, transmitted the co-ordinates to the other vehicles, and then slotted the unit back into its holder. "That's the location of the alert this morning. Where the first pair surfaced. Considering how timid they were to begin with, the lair shouldn't be too far away."

Ianto nodded and started the engine. "I hope those original two weren't rejected for overcrowding, or we'll be at this all night."

They exchanged wry smiles while the reedy tones of the electronic navigator filled the car, punctuating a silence which should have been comfortable. At the next red light, Ianto reached over to mute the audio. "I'm fine with the map," he said. "And I really detest that voice."

Even in the dim light Jack could see a tiny smile trying to lift the corners of Ianto's mouth. "Weird, isn't it?" Ianto said. "I could listen to you all day….."

"And you do," Jack put in, doing his bit to lighten the atmosphere.

"But that woman on the GPS annoys the crap out of me," Ianto finished.

Streetlights flashed past. Both men stared through the windshield, each dredging for something to say which wouldn't sound forced, longing for the banter which usually flew so easily between them.

"That was a good idea, using the air-conditioning," Jack offered.

Ianto gave him a sideways glance, and a shrug. "I wasn't too keen on getting the doors open again. Didn't want to give you another excuse to close them."

Jack winced.

Ianto's hand slid across the seat, resting briefly on Jack's knee before returning to the steering wheel. "Sorry," he said softly. "That was a cheap shot. You just." He paused, inhaled heavily then released the breath in a gush which fogged the window. "You scared me, Jack."

Jack leaned back against the headrest, scanning the blurry stars above. "You scare me all the time, Ianto."

"Was that meant to be funny?"

"Are you laughing? Am I?"

Gwen's disembodied voice advised them that the Weevils were sleepy, the cabins clear of fumes, and that they'd received the co-ordinates and would be leaving the clearing any moment now. Jack watched Ianto's hands tighten on the steering wheel as the realization hit him, too, that their comms were still open. Their team mates might well have overheard every jagged word they'd exchanged.

Jack reached up and muted his microphone with a sigh, then leaned across to the do the same for Ianto whose hands hadn't released their grip on the steering wheel.

"It never used to bother me what the others might overhear," Ianto said stiffly. "But then, we never used to tear strips off each other quite so often."

"Only because you used to suffer in silence," Jack pointed out.

Ianto didn't respond to that, not even to deny it. Not that Jack would have believed him, because he knew how it felt now. _All those months_, he reflected silently, sadly. _All that time Ianto's been feeling like this, exactly like this, exactly how I feel when he's around Mickey. This strange, paralyzing mix of working with someone I like, enjoying their company and wishing them gone at the same time. This is how Ianto must have felt about Gwen. It always bothered me that they've never been close, and it was my fault, all along._

"I hate this, though," Ianto muttered. "I hate the way we argue all the time now."

Jack reached across and lay his hand over the top of Ianto's where it clenched around the steering wheel.

"I don't," he said, somewhat hoarsely, uncomfortably close to pleading. That comment was too much like the start of an ending, and it scared him far more than the Weevils ever could. "Yeah, there's this stuff, and I don't like it much either, believe me. But we had this evening, too, remember?"

Ianto's face softened as images flashed before his eyes, overlaying the road ahead and making him grateful for the lack of traffic. Of course he remembered. Arriving home to find Jack cooking dinner, the ensuing wrestling match over pine nuts. A precious, perfect evening.

"Yeah," Ianto agreed, as his face finally remembered how to produce a real smile. "Yeah, that was good."

Jack retreated back into his own seat. "This is hard; Ianto, but we need it." _I need it, _He added to himself._ I need it so I don't hurt you anymore._

Ianto merely shook his head. "At home, maybe….but it's affecting work, too, Jack."

"So we're more careful with the comms," Jack persisted. "And I stop trying to impress you with my acts of heroism." He was seeing a pattern in his behavior here. Letting things get to the point where Ianto was ready to crack, then sweeping in with the big gestures. Something to work on. Something _else _to work on.

The car slowed. The GPS flashed. They were nearly there. Time to be Torchwood again.

"You're hot when you're being all professional, though," Jack said, and reactivated his microphone before Ianto could say another word.

The eyes that flashed back at him might have been angry or amused, might have been both. But they were animated instead of dull, and that was enough for now.

-XXX-

It was an unusually subdued Jack Harkness who emerged to meet Mickey and Gwen at the mouth of the sewer system pinpointed as the lair of the Weevils they'd captured just that morning. Not that you'd know unless you knew him well. There was that certain tightness around his eyes, the way the smile came just a few seconds too late.

The pair watched their approaching leader, released identical sighs, and then laughed ruefully at each other.

"Poor bugger," Mickey said. "I reckon he's bunging it on a bit, though."

Gwen couldn't help agreeing, given the look Jack cast a look back at the car. "Honestly," she giggled. "How Ianto holds out against that naughty puppy pout…..."

"He's a bloke, we're immune," Mickey explained. He sighed again, and then squared his shoulders. "Which one do you want? And I don't mean the Weevils."

Gwen returned his cheeky grin with a wide-eyed stare. "Should we?" she asked. This man wasn't helping Gwen keep her New Year's resolutions, not at all. She'd spent much of the last twenty-four hours trying to convince herself not to interfere, and now here was Mickey urging her to fall off the wagon.

Mickey shrugged. "They aren't doing a very good job of it themselves, are they? You take Ianto, I reckon."

Gwen bit her lip. "I don't know, Mickey, maybe_ you_ should…"

Mickey shook his head sharply. "Blokes don't talk to blokes, Gwen. Hell, we don't talk to birds much either, but you've got a better shot with him than I have."

"Jack's a man, too," Gwen pointed out.

"Jack doesn't talk to _anyone_," Mickey countered. "But that doesn't matter. _I'll_ be talking to _him_. Or _at_ him, more like."

Gwen returned the smile. She couldn't help it, Mickey's grin was infectious. "I don't suppose I could actually make things worse," she mused.

"Atta girl," Mickey approved. "Shush now," he added, unnecessarily, as Jack drew alongside them.

"Where's Ianto?" Mickey asked, affecting a casual air.

"Still in the car," Jack answered. "Doing something serious with his PDA."

"That ought to make you happy," Mickey answered.

Jack shot him a look in which something close to hate lurked. Gwen blanched, and then busied herself checking the Weevils for signs of returning consciousness.

Mickey blinked at Jack with an air of innocence. "Ianto's sorting out Rift Monitor access for me," he explained.

Jack regarded him with crossed arms. The Rift Monitor was their most sensitive piece of equipment, second only to the Rift Manipulator itself. Jack didn't recall authorizing Mickey's access. Mickey, Jack thought, was taking a bit too much for granted. And Ianto shouldn't be following Mickey's orders without checking with Jack first, especially not with something like this.

"Ianto said you want to be able to monitor the Rift without leaving someone stuck in the Hub," Mickey continued briskly.

The storm building inside Jack at what he was happily convinced was Mickey's presumption blew itself out abruptly. He _had _agreed when Ianto suggested Mickey try to divert the Monitor to his wrist strap. Obviously Mickey would have to get into the Monitor for that.

"Remote access through the PDA's, I thought," Mickey concluded. "So we can all take a turn instead of just leaving it to you and that wrist-strap. Which I didn't think you'd let me look at anyway."

Jack had the grace to look uncomfortable. It hadn't occurred to him that his jealousy might appear to Mickey as a lack of trust. But then, he wasn't used to feeling jealous, at least not so that he couldn't control it, so it wasn't really his fault.

"No one gets to touch that wrist-strap," Gwen put in, now that it seemed safe to listen again. And it was the truth. At least, it was now. As far as Gwen knew, Tosh was the only one besides Jack who'd ever handled the damned thing. Even then Jack hovered over Tosh as though she'd stolen his first-born child.

"I've tweaked my PDA already," Mickey continued. "Earning my penalty rates while I was stuck back there in that clearing. That's how I got into that Weevil program. Now Ianto's trying to generate me an access code to the Rift monitor, so with a bit of luck we'll have remote access any minute."

Gwen grinned brightly. "I can go home after this then? Instead of back to the Hub? Brilliant."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. He supposed that explained all the clandestine messaging between Ianto and Mickey back at the clearing. "Keep this up and I might have to drop the 'Idiot', Mickey. Well done." Jack hoped he didn't sound patronising. It _was_ a clever idea, after all. The boss in him highly approved. The rival for Ianto's affection, however, continued to grumble.

"Well, it's only from my PDA at the moment," Mickey said, with an unconvincing air of modesty. "But I'll tell you what, Gwen. Take this," at which he handed over the device in question, "get Ianto to transfer your access to it, and you'll be right for tonight at least. I can work on beefing up the rest of the PDAs tomorrow."

Jack couldn't help smiling as Gwen dashed off, afire at the prospect of sleeping in her own bed for what remained of the night, instead of the Torchwood couch. Only seconds later, Jack remembered that he'd been trying to avoid giving Gwen the opportunity for a heart-to-heart with Ianto and moved to follow with something akin to panic firing his veins.

Mickey's hand dropped casually onto Jack's arm. "You aren't gonna leave me to deal with both Weevils alone, are you? They'll be stirring soon, and I'd rather move 'em while they're still dozy."

Jack's eyes followed Gwen, torn between love and duty, again. Things were tentative enough between him and Ianto already. He quaked to consider what would happen if Gwen took it on herself to 'make things right'.

"I'm gonna start thinking you don't like my company," Mickey added. "Mind you, anyone with a thinner skin already would. Don't suppose you're gonna tell me what I've done to brown you off?"

Jack tore his eyes away from Gwen as she slipped into Ianto's car. Blundering in now would only make things worse.

"No idea what you're talking about," Jack said absently.

Mickey made a scoffing noise. "You're usually more smarm than snark, but you haven't missed a chance to have a go at me since I arrived."

Jack shook off the restraining hand. Obviously today was a day of confrontations. Jack hoped it wasn't a precursor of the rest of the year, otherwise he might just kidnap Ianto and run away, Rift be damned. Yeah, right. A man can dream.

"C'mon, Captain Flash," Mickey prodded. "Tell me what's got your pretty nose out of joint."

His hands were on his hips, feet squared, an arrogant, fighter's stance. Jack's hackles rose.

"Just leave it, Mickey," he hissed.

"Or what?" Mickey goaded. "You'll flirt at me?"

Jack's hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Give it your best shot, mate, I can take it." Mickey laughed, a cutting, sarcastic sound designed to sting, and it did. "Flirt at me, if that's the best you can do. Unless you're scared of finding out you're not as irresistible as everyone thinks. Or throw that punch you'd already have thrown if you weren't scared of someone finding out you're human. Or maybe grow a pair and tell me what the hell's going on here."

"You're trying to lure him away from me," Jack snapped, goaded beyond restraint by the unerring hits on every recently exposed vulnerability. Neither man needed to know who 'him' was.

"Damn straight," Mickey agreed, eyes flashing.

Jack gaped at the younger man, too taken aback by the admission to retaliate.

Mickey laughed, the tension falling from his muscles. "Geez, I was beginning to think you'd never crack. Yeah, I'm trying to poach your boy, but not like _that_. Mind out of the gutter, Harkness."

Jack relaxed slightly. Only slightly. "Well, then….what?"

Mickey loosened his muscles with a bone-cracking stretch. "I'm not gonna stay with Torchwood," he explained. "I like you, mate, but we get along like sandpaper working together. I'm better off running my own show."

Jack didn't answer that one. It was true, and they both knew it. Ianto and Gwen already obeyed Mickey's orders with scarcely a second thought, and it was only a matter of time before his orders clashed with Jack's. Torchwood couldn't hold both of them, not long term. Mickey had morphed into a leader since the first time Jack met him, but Torchwood already had its Captain.

"And it's not safe, playing this game solo," Mickey went on. "I need someone to watch my back."

Jack bristled. The implication was clear. "You think I don't?" he challenged.

Mickey eyed him coolly. "You've got Gwen, haven't you? Yeah, go ahead; tell me you need 'em both. Tell me again next time you kiss Ianto goodbye at the door and leave him behind to keep house and feed the pets. It's a bloody waste, that's what it is. He's way too good to be stuck in that tomb of an office making coffee."

Jack tried not to flinch, but every word hit a sore spot on his conscience.

Mickey's voice softened. "You know I'm right, don't you?" he said. "Otherwise you'd have punched me out already."

Jack turned away, but he didn't pull away from the hand which landed on his shoulder. The hand of a friend now, not a rival. A strong hand, a strong friend. Strong enough to breach the walls Jack built between himself and everyone else.

"This isn't like you," Mickey added, more gently now. "You're the type to help people grow, not hold them back. What's going on, mate?" The walls crumbled. Jack felt them crumble. Aggression he could hold against, compassion, well, he hadn't had as much practice with that.

"He nearly died, Mickey," Jack whispered, turning his face to the starlight because he couldn't bear what he might see if he looked at Mickey. "I was there….I _took_ him there."

The hand on Jack's shoulder squeezed, anchoring him in the present.

"I do get it, y'know," Mickey said, in a voice surprisingly gentle. "I know what it's like having to watch someone head off and wonder if you'll ever see them again. Jackie and me, every time Rose left with that Doctor of yours, we'd tell each other this was it. That this time, she'd die out there. But every time she took his hand, ready to run off, she bloody near glowed, like someone'd lit a fire inside her. And I knew I wouldn't stop her."

Mickey paused for a rueful laugh. "Not that I could've. But there are all sorts of dying, Jack. You go on like you are, and you'll keep him safe, all right, but you'll kill his spirit while you're at it."

Silence followed; the likes of which Jack couldn't remember ever sharing before. Ianto would never have pushed him this far. Gwen would have pushed him further. Mickey let Jack reach the end on his own.

The silence held until one of the Weevils broke it. Beside them, metal complained as a heavy body shifted inside the van. Jack thought this might well be the first time he'd felt grateful to a Weevil. He shrugged off the anchoring hand, and moved towards the door, opening it a crack to peer in.

"They're waking up," he announced.

"Let's show 'em their new home then," Mickey agreed.

-XXX-

Gwen smiled broadly as Ianto handed Mickey's PDA back to her. "All set," Ianto assured her.

"He's a clever boy, our Mickey," Gwen said warmly.

Ianto nodded. "Resourceful," he agreed.

Gwen bit her lip anxiously as raised voices drifted across from where Jack and Mickey stood.

"Them, too," Ianto said sourly. "Happy New Year at Torchwood."

"Stags butting antlers," Gwen commented, floundering for a beginning. "Just like this morning."

Ianto blinked at her. "That's what_ I_ said when you brought Rhys into the Hub."

Gwen smiled. "Very apt. Then _and_ now."

Ianto stared across at Jack and Mickey. "Jack was never this tough on Owen," he commented, voice breaking momentarily on the name. "And Owen pushed the boundaries far more than Mickey does."

Gwen patted his arm. "I know. But… he wasn't jealous of Owen, Ianto."

It was terribly cute how wide Ianto's eyes grew. "Jack isn't jealous, Gwen. There's nothing to be jealous _of_ – and he doesn't get jealous, anyway."

"Didn't," Gwen corrected. The spluttering was cute, too. "And I don't think he's handling it very well. Go easy on him, OK?"

Ianto merely shook his head. He wanted to tell Gwen to mind her own business, but how could he? After the way they'd subjected Gwen and Mickey to that argument over the comms, Ianto felt he'd lost the right to object if she felt the need to step in. He could only try to dodge.

"How're the Tribbles?" he asked abruptly.

"I think they were asleep when I left," Gwen answered, accepting the change of subject only to give her time to think of a different approach. "They'd stopped singing. I left them in the conference room. They'll be safe enough there until we can work out something better."

Ianto smiled thinly. "We can't keep them. Jack says they won't cope on Earth. Gravity's too high. We'll have to try to send them home."

Gwen nodded, took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "And how _are_ things at home?" she asked.

Ianto glanced at her, eyebrows lifting, butler mask sliding into position with an almost audible snap. Maybe he couldn't object, but he didn't have to encourage it, either.

"Let me guess, then," Gwen said. "You're getting on each other's nerves, you never realised your place was so small before, you'd never noticed how loud he is, how many bad habits he's got, and he never used to complain so much about the way you do things. Am I close?"

Ianto's head snapped around to face her, his mouth hanging open slightly. Gwen grinned.

"Been there," she explained. "But I had a pre-warning to help me through it." She laughed gently. "My Mam said that I shouldn't move in with Rhys before we got married. When I'd finished ranting about how old-fashioned she was, she warned me that marriage vows were the only thing that kept people together their first month under the same roof."

Gwen paused to join in Ianto's startled chuckle, then sobered.

"And I was so glad she'd told me, Ianto, because I remembered it every time I was ready to pack my bags and storm out." Gwen sighed. Even the memory of those first weeks hurt. "We argued every bloody day. I found myself wondering if I'd thought it through properly."

Ianto's mouth turned up at the corners. "You too?"

"It's the same for everyone," Gwen assured him. "Suddenly there's no getting away from all those little things you can laugh off when you don't have to put up with them all day every day. Or from all the other annoyances you don't notice when you can just leave and go back to your own place. It's probably even worse for you, what with working together, and the injuries to cope with as well." She patted his knee, somewhat awkwardly. "Don't give up on him, OK? Just hang in there, and it'll get better, I promise."

Ianto's throat felt quite thick, suddenly. "Thank you, Gwen," he mumbled.

Gwen patted his hand again, feeling just the tiniest bit smug at how well this seemed to be going. "If it's any comfort, he's as muddled by it all as you are."

Ianto smiled slightly. "I doubt that."

"Oh yes," Gwen assured him. "You should have heard what he told me this morning. Actually, you _should _hear it. Make him tell you so you can both have a good laugh."

Ianto eyed her curiously. "Why, what did he say?"

Gwen laughed. "Some nonsense about you thinking he only took up with you because I got engaged," she said. Somewhere deep inside, Gwen was proud of the way she managed to sound so disbelieving, when a tiny selfish part of her wanted to clutch those words as a secret truth.

"He told you that?" Ianto asked, so calmly that Gwen concluded there wasn't any truth to it after all, secret or otherwise, which was all for the best, really. "Why would he tell you that?"

Gwen shrugged. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jack moving. Maybe the Weevils were stirring. "No idea," she said vaguely. "Like I said, he's probably struggling with this as much as you are. Confused. And he _is _Jack. Ego the size of a house. Maybe he likes the idea of having people gnashing their teeth over the idea of him settling with one person."

Ianto joined in with Gwen's laughter, hoping she couldn't hear how hollow it was.

Mickey waved at them energetically from across the road. Ianto seized on the distraction gratefully. "Looks like the Weevils are waking up," he announced.

"I thought so, too." Gwen slipped her borrowed PDA into her pocket and opened the car door. "Coming?" she invited.

Ianto shook his head. "No heavy lifting, remember?"

Gwen chuckled. "Martha will be here soon," she said in a comforting tone which didn't soothe Ianto's jangled nerves in the slightest.

"I'm looking forward to it," Ianto said glumly. "It'll be interesting to see what else Jack comes up with to keep me hidden in the Hub."

Gwen cast him a sympathetic look. "Hang in there, remember?"

Ianto watched her progress back to the van. Watched as his three team-mates hauled the semi-conscious Weevils towards the mouth of the sewer, then backed off to watch the ensuing drama. It was interesting to witness the odd behavior of the Weevils for himself. Just at the others had described that morning, several Weevils emerged from the drain system and assisted the others to enter. Quite gently, for Weevils. Ianto shook his head in confusion.

He had no idea what had just happened, with Gwen _or_ with the Weevils, nor was he confident about making sense out of it anytime soon. Torchwood, Ianto thought, had gone as crazy as those Weevils.

He'd noticed a café still open not far away though. He could still do that. Coffee always helped.

**Yes, I know, terribly chatty chapter. Bear with me, this is building to something, I promise. Thanks for reading.**


	40. Valentine's Day 11

**Weevil theories and fluff this chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

Jack insisted they loiter long enough to ensure the Weevils weren't just going to throw the intruders straight back out, or heaven forbid, send them a fresh pair. Yawns spread, puffing visibly in the chill night air. Torchwood was well used to running on adrenaline now and making up the deficit later, but that particular technique only worked while they were active. Now they were still, each one became slowly aware of their body's suggestion that it was time to be tucked up in bed, instead of leaning against cold metal doors with Jack urging them to share 'first impressions.'

"Who's been feeding him management manuals?" Mickey demanded, shifting restlessly in an effort to find a position where the door handle or some other protruding piece of metal wouldn't connect quite so firmly with his spine.

"That'd be Ianto," Gwen answered, through another yawn. "A bad influence, that one."

Jack gave them his best enigmatic smile. "Ah yes, but he's good at it."

The mutinous grumbling changed to appreciative murmurs as Ianto did his appearing act midway between the van and SUV, bearing a cardboard tray on which paper cups steamed.

"You're a bloody lifesaver, mate," Mickey said, wrapping his hands around the takeaway coffee. "Just what the Weevil's cab driver ordered."

"Mmm, Thanks Ianto," Gwen agreed, already sipping. "Didn't realize how cold I was. I think my Weevil was wet."

"It's a fine state of affairs when the Defenders of the Earth are reduced to the Weevil public transport system," Ianto agreed gravely. "Especially when they aren't car-broken."

Gwen eyed him with silent horror. Jack tried not to laugh.

Mickey smiled broadly, teeth flashing in a display of dentistry which rivaled Jack's. "They _were_ pretty scared for a while there," he commented.

Gwen shuddered. "Thanks for that lovely thought, boys. I'll be throwing these clothes away, then."

Ianto handed a cup of coffee to Jack and leaned against the SUV, cradling his own paper cup between his hands. Jack shifted until their shoulders brushed, relishing the sense of the world moving back into its correct place when Ianto made no attempt to move away.

"Not a patch on yours," Jack told him, as he lowered his cup.

Ianto smiled. "Naturally. You don't think I'd buy you one that was better than mine, do you? I'd make myself redundant."

"Never," Jack announced dramatically. "Neither the redundancy nor the possibility of someone brewing better coffee."

Ianto smiled at him over the rim of his coffee cup, and Jack relaxed for the first time since Gwen entered Ianto's car. Ianto was good at concealing anger, but not _this _good. Either Gwen hadn't said anything after all, or Ianto had decided to let it slide.

Opposite them, leaning similarly against the van, Mickey and Gwen high-fived each other for no discernable reason.

Jack watched the display with curiosity, wondered whether there was a conspiracy brewing, then shook his head at himself for the upsurge of paranoia. It was nothing more than the normal teasing they all indulged in at times like this; just a way to keep warm on a cold night.

The banter continued, developing into what appeared to be a minor contest between Ianto and Mickey as to who could gross Gwen out the most. Gwen was taking it with good humor, but Jack decided enough was enough, which really truly had nothing to do with the fact that it was Mickey making Ianto laugh while Jack had to stand back and be the boss.

"Settle down now," Jack chided. "If this isn't going to be more significant than a bitching session, we might as well go straight home."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Mickey grumbled. "I'm too bloody knackered to think,"

A tired smile cracked Jack's face. "Is Mickey moaning?"

"Oh yes," Gwen agreed.

Ianto looked across at Mickey. "It's usually me they use that one on," he explained.

Mickey finally found a comfortable spot to lean against his van and produced a somewhat pale example of his usual grin. "Hey, if Torchwood's happy to pay me penalty rates to take my turn as punching bag, who am I to argue?"

Jack winced at the reminder. He didn't usually give this much consideration to the finances of the Hub, but those penalty rates were becoming a thorn in his conscience. Which might have been the whole reason Ianto instigated them, actually. Jack knew Mickey had nothing to do with the haggling, but he wouldn't put it past Ianto to do something like this to make Jack pay closer attention to the budget. Or to make him notice how much after-hours work he sent the team on. The favor to Mickey might even be secondary. Or one of those win-win things Ianto insisted Jack read about.

It was a bit pathetic how much better that line of thought made Jack feel. But the team was waiting. Jack cleared his mind, and his throat, and watched their heads turn towards him with a quiet satisfaction. Yeah, they were good, all of them. As soon as Mickey was safely away, Jack knew he'd regret the part he'd played in Mickey's decision not to stay. Probably not enough to call him back, though.

"All right," Jack said crisply. "Let's start so we can all get home."

Gwen marshaled her wits. "They aren't aggressive," she noted.

"And they aren't afraid of the SUV anymore," Mickey added. He tipped his head slightly towards Ianto. "Or _any_ cars, for that matter."

"But they only approach Torchwood vehicles," Ianto offered, smiling across at Mickey with a warmth that made Jack wish he'd been the one to remove the slur from Ianto's beloved rattletrap.

Jack pulled his thoughts firmly back into line and frowned. "Y'know, I could understand this sort of thing happening while Owen was around…."

"Weevil King," Ianto mused. "You don't suppose…" he broke off, shaking his head.

Three sets of eyes swiveled to him. "Spit it out," Mickey invited. "The idea, not the coffee."

Ianto laughed uneasily. "It's just a fanciful notion, but….you don't suppose they're looking for him, do you?"

Gwen shuddered. "That kind of makes sense. But for once, Ianto, I really hope you're wrong. Because if you're right, I don't like to think what they'll do when they can't find him."

The sound of Jack's coffee cup crumpling in his fist drew all eyes to him. "This is one time where ignorance is bliss – for us. No-one tells them, in words, sign language, nothing. Am I clear?"

"Why is everyone looking at me?" Gwen demanded. "I _can _keep my mouth shut, you know."

Lips were bitten as three men turned their heads quickly towards the sewer mouth, scanning for movement. Gwen eyed them suspiciously for a moment, muttering something about testosterone before turning her own gaze to the sewer the Weevils had disappeared into a short cold eternity ago. The gaping hole remained dark and silent.

"I have a theory, too," Gwen said, the annoyance in her voice cutting through the night. "If the current level of testosterone in the air can cope with it."

The men turned to her with slightly startled expressions.

"Because," Gwen explained. "The last time I attempted to pose this particular theory, you all laughed me down."

"Did we?" Jack blinked and looked at the others, who were meeting his gaze with equal confusion.

"We're listening now," Ianto offered.

"I mentioned," Gwen said, carefully keeping her voice level, "that the pair we originally relocated might make little Weevils at their new home."

Mickey made a muffled sound. Gwen elbowed him firmly in the ribs.

"Sorry," Mickey muttered. "But honestly, you can't say something like_ that_ and expect to be taken seriously."

"Just because I wasn't being crude, doesn't mean it wasn't a logical supposition," Gwen argued. "They might well have been out looking for mates."

"It might have been better if you'd just _said _that, instead of going for cute, Gwen," Jack pointed out.

Gwen blinked. Jack _liked _cute. At least, she'd thought he did. At least, he used to.

Ianto cleared his throat. "I wouldn't have thought it was mating season," he suggested.

"It's nearly Spring," Gwen said defensively.

Jack laughed. "It's the middle of winter."

"Nearly Valentine's Day then," Gwen answered. "And…"

Mickey snorted into his coffee. "Nearly! It's over a month away. And since when do Weevils follow our calendar?"

"If you'd let me finish…." Gwen said, hands propping onto her hips in her best attempt at a threatening stance. Mickey mimed zipping his lip.

"I wasn't suggesting they were following the calendar as such, just the seasons," Gwen explained. "Working backwards; if it's birthing season in spring, it might be mating season now."

All three men stared at her. Gwen told herself the look on their faces was speculation rather than surprise, because otherwise she'd have to use her elbow again.

"Depending on the gestation period," Ianto said thoughtfully. "Which I don't know that we ever measured, did we?"

Jack shrugged. "I doubt it. Janet never got pregnant and we haven't had any other Weevils under observation long enough to follow a pregnancy, if there was one."

"I'll see what I can get out of that Weevil database tomorrow," Mickey offered.

Jack frowned thoughtfully. "Doesn't explain why they're throwing pack members out though," he said. "The four we've dealt with have all been young and healthy. Good breeding stock, I'd have thought."

"Young healthy _males_," Gwen pointed out smugly. "They're throwing out surplus." It was a bit vindictive perhaps, but she was still annoyed they'd taken so long to give her theory serious consideration. Though she had to concede Jack had a point about not being cute, even if it made her wistful for the time when he used to _appreciate_ cute, when it came from her. But no, it was better this way. She'd just have to get used to it, at least until she'd had time to convince herself things had never been any different.

It was a sad thing when Weevil logic was less twisted than the workings of her own mind.

"It_ is_ usually the males who get sent packing," Mickey agreed thoughtfully. "Lions do it, I think."

"And zebras," Gwen added helpfully. "They have bachelor herds."

"Now that we've established we all have the Discovery channel…" Ianto prompted.

"Crack that whip, Jones," Mickey muttered.

"Someone has to," Ianto agreed placidly.

"As to the Weevils overcoming their fear of the SUV," Jack said, dragging the conversation back on track. "We arrived in it and took them to a new source of females." He paused for a stretch and yawned. "No wonder the new pair was keen to come with us."

"I like that much better than the idea that they're tracking us down to punish Torchwood for losing their Weevil King," Mickey agreed.

Silence fell. Mickey winced. "Sorry," he muttered. He hadn't meant to imply blame, but he supposed he should've known better than to be flippant about the loss of their doctor. Damn it though, it was a bit much expecting him to be grief-stricken about someone he'd never met. Another reason for him not to hang around. These guys had too much history, too much loss, too recently. They weren't ready for a new team member just yet. Mickey decided he'd wait until Martha arrived then make an excuse to leave. Which in itself was an excuse to stay long enough to see Martha again. One day, Mickey told himself, he might have to talk to someone about his bad habit of pining after the Doctor's companions.

"So we're not Weevil public transport," Ianto summarized. "We're Weevil pimps. Isn't that lovely? Every time I think this job has become as undignified as it can, a new low appears."

"Now that's unfair," Gwen said. "Why is that he can do ironic, but I'm not allowed cute?" She didn't mean it, though. She was just playing along with Ianto's attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Poor Mickey looked terribly uncomfortable, and he shouldn't have to.

Mickey grinned across at her. "Because we'd finished the serious stuff?" he suggested.

"Feel free to be cute now," Jack offered.

Gwen kept her face straight with effort. "I'm not in the mood anymore," she informed them gravely.

There were smiles all around, but no one had the energy to laugh.

-XXX-

"How long since release?" Jack asked no-one in particular.

"Half hour," Mickey answered.

"Twenty-eight minutes," Ianto said, at exactly the same time.

"Which highlights my lack of precision in the field," Mickey said mournfully. "It'll get me into trouble one day if no-one helps me with that." Yeah, he'd leave soon, but that didn't mean he'd have to leave _alone_.

Ianto smiled into his coffee, but made no comment. Gwen thought it was a very good sign that Jack didn't glare at Mickey. Didn't even glare at his crumpled coffee cup _instead _of Mickey.

"That's long enough," Jack decided. "Let's go home. Have you got that supercharged PDA, Gwen?"

Gwen nodded while stifling another yawn. "Can't help hoping I don't get a chance to test it out," she admitted.

"If the next alert is just more Weevils hoping for a ride, you're authorized to ignore it," Jack told her, stretching his own fatigued muscles.

It was only after Gwen got home that she wondered how she was supposed to tell the difference. But Rhys' delighted if bemused welcome was enough to make her shrug the concern away until she had to deal with it.

-XXX-

In spite of the recent caffeine infusion, Ianto yawned almost constantly as they made their way back to the faithful if battered sedan. Jack warned himself not to make a fuss, and he was succeeding until one yawn-and-stretch ended in a wince.

"Are you all right?" Jack asked.

Ianto flapped an impatient hand. "Just tired. And I've been sitting still too long." Another yawn. Another stretch. Another wince. And a concession. "Might be better if you drive, though."

Jack took the keys gingerly, torn between concern and something close to delight at being trusted behind the wheel of Ianto's treasured vehicle.

"Don't dent it this time," Ianto warned.

Jack tried an innocent grin which completely failed. "Accidents happen."

Ianto sniffed. "The tree jumped out in front of me, officer."

"And how you can question that, when you've personally met at least three different species of ambulatory plant-life?" Jack responded triumphantly.

Ianto combined an eye-roll with strapping himself into the passenger seat. "That particular one was an oak," he pointed out. "I'll never understand why you hate this car so much."

Jack started the engine. "I don't hate it," he said. "I just think you deserve something better."

"Which I'd hardly ever drive, given we use the SUV most of the time, and which I'd stress over every time I have to transport something dead or slimy," Ianto countered.

Jack didn't have an answer for that one. He conceded defeat with a laugh. "OK, I swear I will never purposely dent your car again. Happy?"

"Yep," Ianto answered. "Or I will be once you've got the car in the garage with all its paint intact."

Never one to ignore a challenge, Jack drove with uncharacteristic care, intent on arriving home with the car in its current un-dented if un-glamorous state. They drove in silence, a _comfortable_ silence, which didn't really make much sense, given the exchanges between them so far this evening.

Jack pondered that as they drove. This was what Ianto always did, he realised, with an ominous sinking feeling. Ianto dealt with whatever it was that bothered him by locking it away behind one of those goddamned masks. Jack knew it, had always known it, but it was so much easier to go along with the charade than try to pull the mask away and deal with whatever it covered. But look where that had landed him, landed _them_, with Ianto bottling up months worth of resentment only to have it erupt over them both when the pressure got too much.

Jack felt as sharp stab of guilt as he recalled how close he'd come to falling into that same pattern, not an hour ago, leaning against the SUV and joking about coffee while wallowing in relief that Ianto was 'letting it slide'.

Jack promised himself they'd discuss it as soon as they got home. He nearly got there, too, but Ianto foiled his good intentions again by producing two oversized gingerbread men from his pockets while hanging up their coats.

It wasn't the gingerbread that shredded Jack's resolve, so much as the impish grin which accompanied it. "I got them where I bought the coffee," Ianto confided, waving the treats. "But there were only two left, so I had to be devious."

Shortly thereafter, Jack found himself with hot chocolate in one hand, gingerbread in the other, and Ianto between them. There had to be worse settings for a deep and meaningful discussion than this, but there couldn't be many better ones. Of course, there _were_ much better things to be doing in this sort of setting, or at least more pleasant, but perhaps not quite so important. And recognizing that might just be a step in the right direction.

"You are, aren't you?" Jack asked, the words feeling awkward on his tongue. "Happy, I mean?"

Ianto eyed him curiously. "Mostly," he agreed, when he'd dealt with the current mouthful of gingerbread. "Why'd you ask?"

"Because you weren't, before," Jack said carefully, wondering why he was putting his head into this particular noose. Oh yeah, because he was trying to develop a sense for 'couple stuff'. That was why.

"Less than an hour ago, in fact," Jack continued. "And I can't help wondering what changed. Care to enlighten me?"

Ianto sighed. "Something Gwen said," he admitted. "Amongst the many things she said." Pause. "She seemed remarkably well informed."

Jack released the breath he was holding, slowly, so it wouldn't sound too much like a sigh. He'd been expecting this, after all. It was, he told himself gloomily, along the lines of lancing a boil. Better out than in. And other such platitudes.

"I had a chat with her today," Jack said, battling teeth that kept trying to clamp shut against the words.

Ianto raised an enquiring eyebrow. "About anything in particular?"

Jack squeezed whatever was handy as reproof for the cheekiness, but inwardly he was grateful to Ianto for his attempt to lighten the mood. "I was feeling guilty," he confessed. More eyebrows. No flippant comments this time, though.

"Because," Jack forged on, "Seeing as you'd gotten the impression I wanted her more than I wanted you, I had to make sure she didn't think the same."

Ianto wrinkled his nose at Jack's virtuous indignation. "And did she?" he prompted.

Jack sighed. "She said not," he hedged.

"And she told_ me_ that it was nonsense," Ianto said. "So either that's the truth, or it's what Gwen's trying to tell herself she believes, which amounts to the same thing, or will when she's convinced herself. One of the best things about hindsight," Ianto concluded, before Jack could get a word in edgewise, "Is the way it lets you convince yourself you knew it all along."

Jack huffed out a tiny laugh at Ianto's accurate if unflattering assessment of the workings of the human mind. But Ianto wasn't finished yet.

"I really ought to be angry with you for discussing it in the first place," Ianto mused, giving Jack a attempt at a glare which was completely ruined by the remnants of hot chocolate on his lips. "I mean, it's pretty much my deepest insecurity, and here you are broadcasting it. I_ should_ be furious."

"But you're not?" Jack said hopefully, stroking the milk moustache away with a finger. "You're not, are you?"

"Strangely enough, no," Ianto answered. "It's…..comforting, and damned if I know why. Unless….." Ianto paused to ferry their empty mugs to the sink, then returned to the couch.

"Unless what?" Jack prompted, encouraged by the way Ianto had moved back into his arms.

"Unless….." Ianto paused in thought. "Am I gloating over the fact that you told her it was me you wanted? Or at least implied it."

For once in his long life, Jack chose to remain silent. He might, he mused with a hint of smugness, actually be getting a handle on this couple stuff.

"That's depressing, you know," Ianto confided. "I'm gloating at scoring one over the prom queen. How very adolescent of me. I should have left that sort of thing behind at least ten years ago."

Jack swallowed firmly against the lump in his throat at yet more evidence of the damage he'd wrought. Ianto shouldn't have felt the need for this sort of reassurance. One day, Jack warned himself firmly, Ianto was going to run out of forgiveness.

"Or," Jack said, with an attempt at lightness, "You should have chosen someone who didn't throw you back into that pit of teenage angst."

Ianto smiled up at him. "Too late now, I suppose."

Jack's arms tightened around him. "It won't happen again," he vowed.

"Promises, promises," Ianto teased. "I'll remind you of that next time your ego needs a boost and I'm too annoyed with you to give it."

Jack frowned down at him. However lightly said, there was too much doubt underlying that sentence. He captured Ianto's hand within his, and pressed it against his chest in the faint hope that Ianto would find the gesture as reassuring as Jack did himself, even if his memory hadn't yet obliged him with the reason why.

"Yours," he reminded Ianto softly. "What do I have to do to convince you?"

Ianto smiled up at him. "Whatever it is, don't start now, Jack. I'm too tired for grand gestures."

Jack's lips twisted into a smile. It wouldn't hurt to accept the deflection this time. They'd had enough angst for one evening.

"Full page ad in the dailies?" he suggested. "Or no. Shouting from the rooftops would be more my style, don't you think?"

Ianto tilted his head to one side as he pretended to give it serious consideration. "Not the roof. I'd end up following you up there to drag you down again, then someone'll call the police and Gwen will end up having to bail us out. All things considered, I'd rather get some sleep."

-XXX-

Ianto was already a shouded lump beneath the duvet when Jack slipped in beside him.

"Are you asleep?" Jack whispered against his neck, after nearly a full minute of nuzzling failed to garner him any response.

"Yep," Ianto mumbled. "Fast asleep. Having a nightmare about you trying to keep me awake."

"Just as well," Jack murmured into Ianto's skin, even as his arm drifted across his lover's torso. "You can think you dreamed me being needy."

"Is that what this is?" Ianto asked. He batted at the wandering hand, too un-coordinated from the approach of sleep for accuracy. "I thought you were just being greedy."

Jack chuckled, the vibrations against Ianto's neck making him twitch. "Not my fault if I can't get enough of you."

Ianto began to turn slowly in Jack's embrace, lips seeking with eyes still half-shut. Jack responded eagerly, but it wasn't long before guilt won out over desire. Ianto's movements were completely lacking their usual grace. He was too tired for this. Jack sighed and tightened his hold to halt Ianto's movement, his good intentions bolstered by the fact that he'd hardly be able to urge his lover to take it easy at work when he'd been responsible for disturbing his rest.

"I can wait until you're conscious," Jack said lightly.

"Could've just let me sleep in the first place, then," Ianto mock-grumbled. He was feeling almost indecently content, though still concerned over his immaturity in savoring what was quite possibly an empty victory over Gwen. She'd never really tried to steal Jack away from him, after all, so it was only his own insecurities that had been in the way.

And if he kept telling himself that, then he, like Gwen, and probably Jack as well, would eventually convince himself it was the truth; and they could all live happily ever after in their separate virtuous realities.

Still, the currently reality was pretty damned good. Ianto captured Jack's hand in his own and brought it up to his chest. "Go 'sleep, Jack," he mumbled, holding the hand firmly within his own so it couldn't go wandering again.

There was another chuckle as the errant lips took a last trip across Ianto's neck before leaving it in peace, and a rearrangement of sleep-heavy limbs as Jack settled them both more comfortably around each other. When the movement stopped, Ianto's head was against Jack's shoulder, and warm breath whispered through his hair as Jack's chin settled on the top of his skull. Yes, there were arguments; there were doubts that wouldn't be banished. But there was this, too. Ianto sighed with contentment and let himself spiral down into sleep.

-XXX-

"Don't leave me," Jack whispered.

The words were all wrong for the current dream, which involved Weevils with Cupid wings. Ianto's brain woke, more thoroughly than it ever did in response to the alarm clock.

"I wasn't planning to," he pointed out, swiveling in Jack's arms until they were face to face. "And where did that come from?"

"You were dreaming," Jack answered promptly. "Dreaming me being needy, remember? You imagined it. Go back to sleep."

"Jack," Ianto said warningly.

Jack sighed. "Mickey's going to offer you a job," he confessed.

"He already did," Ianto said. "A couple of times."

Jack's arms tightened around him. "And?"

"And I said you needed me," Ianto answered. "Was I right?"

Jack smiled down at him, almost dizzy from the surge of relief. "Obviously."

Ianto frowned. Jack restrained himself from kissing the lines away. That would be far too soppy.

"Guess I wasn't very convincing if he still came to you about it," Ianto said.

Jack shrugged. Ianto blinked up at him. Jack watched the bright blue gaze sharpen in thought, and wished he'd just let him sleep.

"Apparently," Jack said, affecting an injured tone. "Keeping you on light duties – as per medical advice, by the way – is a waste of your skills."

Ianto didn't laugh. He was quite proud of that. But he'd had enough sleep to restore his thought processes. Mickey had handed him his escape from confinement to the Hub and Ianto wasn't going to waste it, however wide Jack could manage to get his eyes.

"But that's only until Martha clears me to go back into the field, isn't it?" Ianto asked. He did innocent far better than Jack ever had.

Jack's throat jerked repeatedly. "Yeah," he muttered.

"Glad that's sorted," Ianto said placidly. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

Jack watched Ianto sink back into slumber before succumbing to his own fatigue. He fell reluctantly into restless dreams, where shadows with dusky skin and white teeth tore Ianto from his arms, leaving him whimpering in the dark with nothing but Mickey's laughter for company.

**Fluffity fluff I know. Or was it the calm before the storm? (Insert evil laugh)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	41. Valentine's Day 12

**A nice fluffy interlude after an angsty evening. And a bit of plotting to get Martha on her way...**

* * *

Jack woke slowly, gently, in what was possibly, no definitely, the best way to be woken.

"Ianto?" he mumbled.

"Were you expecting someone else?" The voice was muffled, coming as it did from beneath several layers of bedding, but it was still unmistakable.

"Ianto," Jack repeated, first with sleepy content, then repeatedly, in various tones, at various volumes, while rain pattered against the window in rhythm with his accelerating heartbeat.

It was perfect, so perfect, even down to the way Ianto had disappeared beneath the duvet, giving Jack had no choice but to relax into the moment, instead of struggling to watch every second, capture every image, as he'd found himself doing lately. His eyes drifted shut, lids too leaden to open even when Ianto emerged from beneath the bedding to press their lips together. He didn't need sight at the moment anyway, what with all his other senses going into overdrive. Jack's limbs grew progressively heavier beneath the onslaught of sensation, or perhaps the mattress beneath him had changed to the consistency of marshmallow. He sank. Until he floated.

Oh yeah, definitely a good way to wake up.

Jack's eyes opened to a version of Ianto that was all his. No one else got to see Ianto with his hair pointing in all directions, reddened mouth smirking, eyes sparkling with mischief. Jack might have described him as adorably tousled, if he said things like that.

"Good Morning," Ianto said politely.

Jack would have laughed harder except he was far too relaxed for the effort.

-XXX-

Gwen drifted into consciousness, reveling in the luxury of waking up for no other reason except that she wasn't tired anymore. The only sound assaulting her ears was Rhys' snoring, so much more welcome that the shrilling of her phone or banging of an impatient fist on her door as the team rushed past to pick her up en route to the latest world threat.

Gwen's half-open eyes fell on the PDA on her bedside table, and a sudden anxiety that she might have slept through an alarm sent a sleep-heavy hand groping for it. Nothing. Well, nothing except a deposit of dormant alien flora that came through sometime after four, which she'd noted as nothing serious enough to get out of bed for.

Gwen blinked as she considered that. They'd had alerts routed to PDAs before, but never with enough detail to determine how urgent the alert was. What had Mickey done to make it so different? So much better? The mere thought was disturbing, as though it was a betrayal of Tosh's skills to compare her work with someone else's, especially unfavorably.

Fighting the vague sense of disloyalty, Gwen propped herself up against the headboard to scrutinize the display. It was, she concluded, like the difference between having a pager and a mobile phone. They'd gotten alerts before, sure, but they'd had to dash into the Hub, or rely on Tosh logging in from her laptop, to get details like co-ordinates or the composition of the deposit.

Tosh wouldn't have produced this, Gwen concluded wistfully. Tosh would have examined Mickey's efforts, smiled her appreciation, then discreetly cornered Jack in his office to explain how inadequate the summary was. Gwen smiled to herself. She could practically hear Tosh arguing that knowing the Rift had deposited an armed life-form wasn't enough if it didn't include the species, the type of armament it usually carried, hints for disarming it and probably what sort of food they could use to lure it out. Tosh was a perfectionist as well as a genius. If she couldn't give them everything, she wouldn't give them anything at all.

But, Gwen thought, scanning the display parameters again, Tosh was working with a five-person team. More often than not there'd been someone co-ordinating from the Hub anyway, so not having remote details wasn't really much of a hardship.

Conscience satisfied, Gwen contemplated the gift Mickey had given them. Armed with this program, the three of them might actually cope, rather than just existing from crisis to crisis. And three it would be, because Mickey had already warned Gwen not to plan on him staying, and Martha wouldn't linger either, not with a fiancé waiting for her in London.

-XXX-

Ianto arranged himself beside Jack, propped on one elbow so he could look down into his lover's face. Smug, Jack would call him now, because he _did_ say things like that. Understandable. Jack was feeling slightly smug himself.

"Not that I'm complaining," Jack said, "But what was that for?"

Ianto quirked an eyebrow over twinkling eyes. "There has to be a reason?" he asked, all teasing voice and mock offence.

Jack smiled, trying to ignore the way his insides insisted on doing all sorts of things best left to romance novels. "For most people, no. For you…. Ianto, when _did_ you ever do anything without a reason?"

"Well, since you insist," Ianto said, with a valiant attempt at a huff. "I didn't have a reason, I had several."

"I knew it," Jack gloated, wrapping his arms around his lover and giving into the temptation to kiss the pouting lips. "Go on then, give me the list," Jack teased. "I wanna know what I did to deserve that sort of wake-up call, so I can do it more often."

Ianto chuckled. "No mystery. It got you awake without the use of cold water."

"Appreciated," Jack noted. A good word, considering that he was currently appreciating his armful of warm Welshman. "You have my full permission to wake me that way every morning, if you like."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Ianto answered, melting into Jack's embrace without even a token protest about getting ready for work. This was shaping up to be one of Jack's better mornings.

"You said several reasons," Jack prompted, in the interests of obtaining a bit more vowel action.

"I kind of felt bad about falling asleep on you last night," Ianto confided, his voice muffled in Jack's shoulder. "Didn't want to let you loose on Cardiff unsatisfied."

Jack tensed. Ianto's voice was teasing still, but there was enough truth in the words to cast a net around all the butterflies frolicking in Jack's gut. It wasn't so long ago that he'd taken a refusal from Ianto as tacit permission to slake his appetite elsewhere. Not long ago, yet a lifetime away, when he was still trying to convince himself Ianto was just another in the long string of lovers who could be extracted from his heart at will.

"I thought we'd sorted that," Jack said, trying to inject a note of reproof into a voice far to unsteady for his own liking.

"We did," Ianto agreed, moving his face into Jack's neck. "Sorry. Old habits die hard, and all that."

The lump of trapped butterflies was now butting up against Jack's heart, making it lurch in a quite unsettling fashion. If Ianto still felt the need to work on keeping Jack faithful, after he'd _promised_ there'd be no one else, on Christmas day no less, then Jack had much more ground to make up than he'd realised, even with both Gwen and Mickey hitting him over the head with his shortcomings at every opportunity.

Mickey. The butterflies worked their way into Jack's throat. If Ianto thought Jack was still looking elsewhere, maybe he felt that gave him the right to look around too. And Mickey was right there to look at.

"Or is it you who shouldn't be roaming about unsatisfied?" Jack added, wishing he'd taken the time to make his voice sound less strained.

His shoulder chilled as Ianto's head rose from it, to loom above Jack's again, blue eyes examining his face intently. Jack squirmed, internally at least. He was monumentally bad at this couple stuff. Really, he ought to stop trying; only…..only it was too late, wasn't it? Ianto had gotten in way too deep to be dislodged. Jack was horrified to realize his eyes were watering. Must be the strain of keeping them open. So he shut them. Tightly.

"Oh Jack," Ianto sighed. "You daft bloody sod." He should be elated that Jack wasn't hiding from him anymore, but the doubts he'd seen clouding those blue orbs was painful to witness. Doubts he'd somehow put there. Doubt, insecurity even, feelings Ianto was too well acquainted with himself to feel any sense of triumph at having inspired in Jack.

"Remember how I used to complain that we never talked?" Ianto said, after a painful silence.

"Yeah," Jack mumbled.

"I take it all back," Ianto concluded. "Now we talk too much. Or too often."

Jack tried to laugh, but it wasn't convincing.

Ianto inhaled heavily, and released the words in a rush. "There's nothing between me and Mickey except friendship," he said. "I don't have the hots for Mickey. I'm not even attracted to Mickey. Or anyone else. Except…except you."

Jack didn't answer. Couldn't, considering it was a toss up whether he'd choke on relief or embarrassment. Jealousy was one thing, pointless, stupid perhaps, but there was still a kind of strength to it. It was nowhere near as embarrassing as insecurity. Especially when the insecurity was obvious enough to force Ianto into such an uncomfortable declaration. And here he was, Jack thought, with a further stab of embarrassment, with his eyes shut like a child hiding from monsters, while Ianto faced both of their demons head on.

Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced his eyes open. Ianto's face was burning red by now, but his eyes remained fixed on Jack. "I was hoping that the…er…practical demonstration on waking would've been enough. Certainly a hell of a lot less embarrassing, but….If that was what you needed to hear….Was it, Jack?"

Jack rarely blushed, but he could feel heat creeping through his cheeks. And given the way Ianto had started rambling, he obviously wasn't any better off. Because, in spite of rapidly mounting evidence to the contrary, they still didn't do sentiment. It was an effort not to tear his eyes away, but if Ianto could step so far across their boundaries, the least Jack could do was meet him there.

Blue eyes remained locked on blue, exchanging pleas and reassurances that would never get past their lips. The profound silence lasted until their shared sense of the ridiculous sent twitches through the corners of their mouths.

"I seem to remember telling you you'd dreamed the whole neediness thing," Jack muttered, finally allowing himself to roll away, pressing his heated cheeks against the cool pillow. If he was lucky, the mattress would turn into marshmallow again and swallow him for a while.

Ianto slid out of bed, mouth quivering with repressed laughter at the sight of fearless Captain Harkness hiding in the pillows. "My mistake," Ianto agreed gravely. "Glad that's sorted. Now shall we grab a shower?"

_We. _Jack turned back, to see Ianto standing – no_ posing_ – in the bathroom doorway and that was all it took to have him scrambling out of bed with scant regard for any remaining shreds of dignity. Blatant attempt at distraction or not, it wasn't the type of invitation Jack declined.

-XXX-

Gwen couldn't help thinking that it was kind of a shame, Martha being engaged.

Gwen had only met Tom once, and given how anxious they'd all been about Ianto at the time, she hadn't really had a chance to get to know him. But the impression that stuck in her mind was a slightly pompous individual being disparaging about the Hub. Not the type she'd have thought Martha would fall for, to be honest.

Mickey, now. Gwen_ liked_ Mickey, and it saddened her to see the longing in his eyes whenever Martha was mentioned. And if only Martha was free, Mickey's inevitable pursuit of the pretty doctor would put an end to Jack fretting over the ridiculous notion that Mickey was about to snatch Ianto out from under his nose.

If Mickey and Martha got together, maybe Mickey would stay at Torchwood. Maybe they _both _would.

But Martha had Tom. Gwen shook her head at herself and applied a swift mental slap to her errant thoughts. Instead of wasting time speculating about her friends' relationships, she ought to head into work. She could pick up that deposit of flora on the way. Catch up on her backlog before the others arrived. It was a good idea, and it nearly got her out of bed. Then the rain started.

The world outside her bedroom window was cold and dull, and bed was not only cozy and warm, but had Rhys in it. Asleep still, and looking totally adorable with his mouth open like that.

Maybe Jack wouldn't mind if she came in a bit late today? There were no alerts to attend to, at least nothing urgent. If the Weevils _were_ still out looking for the loves of their lives - or at least this season's - surely they could do it without Torchwood's help? And thanks to those lovelorn Weevils, she'd gotten home terribly late. Jack was probably expecting them all to sleep in a bit. He'd even told her to ignore any alerts if they weren't crucial – well, something along those lines.

Gwen watched Rhys sleep and battled her sense of duty until the drumming of rain on the roof grew heavy enough to tip the balance. Especially when Rhys woke in response to a distant clap of thunder.

_He_ wasn't due at work for at least another hour. Gwen concluded that this was a prime opportunity not to let it drift.

-XXX-

Martha woke, registered the empty sheets beneath her outstretched arm, and sighed as reality rushed in to replace dreams. To finish the process, her eyes opened on the cocktail dress hanging from a hook on the back of the door, its beading sparkling the way her engagement ring used to.

Martha closed her eyes against a fresh flood of tears. She'd been so sure she was doing the right thing by staying in London to attend that charity dinner with Tom as she'd promised. A last, pleasant evening together. A sign of their amicable separation. Yeah, right. Tom sat with her through dinner, nobly suffering for all to see, then spared her a single dance before spending the rest of the night with a string of elegant sophisticates while Martha tried not to wither beneath the tutting of the medical community over the little Unit upstart's treatment of their esteemed Dr Milligan.

And the worst thing of all was they were perfectly justified. She _had _treated him badly.

Lying in her solitary bed, staring at her empty finger, Martha accepted that she should never have tracked him down. Or at least, once she realised that the Tom she'd found bore only a superficial resemblance to the man she'd met on her wanderings through that cursed year, she should have left well enough alone.

Instead, she'd latched on and waited patiently for the 'real' Tom to emerge. Then waited not quite so patiently. Then prodded, trying to pry out the hero he_ had_ to be, somewhere beneath the expensive cologne, the superb tailoring and immaculate haircuts.

But he wasn't there to find. Never had been. 'Her' Tom came into being due to the ravages of the year that didn't happen. Suffering that tore away cultured veneer, shredded his illusions, his delusions. And as Martha's parents hinted, until Tish told her bluntly, it was nothing short of cruel of her to wish those changes onto the man she'd become engaged to. Tom Milligan was a good man, a nice man, an excellent doctor. Esteemed by his peers and respected in the community. But he wasn't the man she'd dreamed about. All Martha achieved through her attempts to 'make him over' was unhappiness for both of them.

Jack would understand, Martha thought, with a stab of longing. And there was nothing to keep her in London anymore. Not Tom, certainly. Not Unit. Martha's relationship with Unit had been strained, to use Tom's understatement, since she'd relayed The Doctor's demand to dismantle the Osterhagen network. They'd be as glad to be rid of her as she was to get away.

She wasn't due in Cardiff yet, but surely they wouldn't mind. Instead of spending the next few days trying to dodge Tom while living under the same roof, she could be spouting her woes into Jack's too-handsome shoulder, lapping up Gwen's sympathy and Ianto's coffee in equal amounts. With a sprinkling of Mickey's admiration to sweeten it all.

-XXX-

Mickey's alarm shattered a damned good dream. He yawned, stretched, and stumbled off to the bathroom for a shower. Best to make it a cold one, after a dream like that.

**Hope you enjoyed that! I did! It's filled my fluffometer for at least a week. thanks for reading.**


	42. Valentine's Day 13

_Hello again. Hope you enjoy this chapter - I did._

* * *

Jack rose from his desk with a guilty sense of all being right in the world. He really shouldn't be doing this internal dance of joy that Martha had broken off her engagement. Yeah, maybe he'd always considered Tom a bit too stuffy for her, but still, she had to be upset, right? So Jack knew that shouldn't be pleased, regardless of the fact that not only was Martha now available to come to Cardiff early, but she was also in a position where he could make a bid at snagging her as Torchwood's permanent medic.

A _proper_ friend would be hurting for her pain. Even if her newly single status meant the love-struck Mickey would be far too busy wooing Martha to monopolize Ianto's time – and affections.

So Jack knew he shouldn't be pleased. But he was. Jack concluded that he was a bad, bad boy and Ianto really ought to punish him for it.

Apparently, nothing was going to ruin this mood.

-XXX-

When Jack emerged from his office his smile broadened further, even as he shook his head at the sight of his fearless team of alien fighters, noses pressed up against the windows of the conference room, cooing through the glass and admonishing each other to be quiet. He'd have to save a screen capture of the CCTV. For the blackmail value, if nothing else.

He could threaten always threaten to show it to Martha if Mickey got out of line.

The Tribbles _were_ damned cute though. Jack shouldered himself into a spot at the window for a closer look. Pretty colors. Cuddly-looking. And he'd thought only Ianto had a snore that appealing.

Jack gave in to the impulse to press his own nose against the glass, smiling as Ianto's hand slipped into his. They watched, entranced, as the sleeping mass woke and stirred, shifting around the table like an ambulatory carpet. There was a particularly striking one right in the middle of the pack, deep blue with vibrant red splotches along its spine. Jack couldn't help thinking how well it matched the décor at home.

But no, he reminded himself firmly. This was one set of Rift refugees that actually had a decent chance of going back to _their_ home, and he wouldn't let Torchwood rob them of that, however cute they were. Besides, they wouldn't survive, let alone thrive, kept on Earth as pets, even by Torchwood.

Though Jack had to admit, they looked in good form. Not showing any signs of wilting under the burden of Earth gravity. Quite vigorous, actually. And there were quite a lot of them. More than he'd have thought even Mickey's van would fit, unless it, too, was bigger on the inside.

"How many did you say you picked up?" Jack asked, frowning doubtfully at the fluffy swarm crowding the table which by now ought to be groaning under the weight of breakfast.

Gwen paused mid-coo. "Four?" she said, with a distressing lack of certainty.

"You didn't count?" Jack demanded. He peered back through the windows, trying to separate the mottled puffballs into separate bodies. Definitely more than four. More like fourteen.

"We did," Gwen said defensively. "Kind of. Didn't we?" She looked at the other two.

Ianto nodded. "Kind of about covers it," he agreed ruefully. "They were huddled together at the drop site and we didn't want to stress them by trying to separate them. And once we got here there was a distracting amount of cooing going on."

Jack snickered. "And not only from Gwen, huh?"

"We carried in two each," Mickey announced, ignoring Jack very pointedly. "Didn't we Ianto?"

Ianto nodded. "Then Gwen went out and got the rest. I don't think we did a head count after. How many did you bring in, Gwen?"

"Two little ones," Gwen confirmed. "I thought maybe you only brought in one each, 'cause yours were larger….So, there should be six, right?"

They all gazed through the glass, trying to reduce the volume to a manageable half-dozen.

Mickey sighed heavily and turned his back to the windows. "I hate it when women are right," he muttered.

"And_ I_ thought they were clinging together for comfort," Ianto added, looking away from the Tribbles just long enough to fix Mickey with a frown. "That was a bit of a sexist comment, wasn't it?" he chided.

Mickey threw up his hands. "Yeah, I know, but the gloating does me in, it really does.

"I don't gloat," Gwen exclaimed. Mickey snickered. Both Jack and Ianto wisely chose not to comment.

Gwen lost the battle to maintain an air of injury and grinned at the Tribbles instead. This was shaping up to be a really nice day. She'd dutifully tracked down the deposit of alien flora which had dropped through the Rift overnight, only to find that it had composted itself beyond recovery, leaving only harmless traces in the soil. So here she was, fresh from a nice lie-in with her cuddly husband, watching the cutest aliens ever to have descended on Cardiff instead of being up to the knees in alien muck.

And now this. Vindication. Damned right she'd gloat after all their teasing! Gwen turned her head to fix Mickey with an enquiring expression, then moved away from the windows and tapped her foot, looking between the men with the air of someone who had plenty of time to waste.

"Oh all right," Mickey conceded. He jabbed a finger in Gwen's direction. "You said it was mating season. Guess you were right. Happy?"

Gwen didn't bother trying not to look smug. "Guess I was," she agreed. "You might want to remember that next time you gang up on the estrogen."

"Speaking of which," Jack said, seizing the opening. "Martha has apparently met all her commitments in London, so she'll be here sometime today."

Ianto turned sharply from his perusal of the fluffy rainbow in the conference room. "I'll have to arrange another hotel," he fretted. "The one she stayed in last time didn't have an opening until tomorrow night."

Jack squeezed his shoulder. "Don't stress. Martha won't mind using the bunker for tonight. She's slept in worse places."

Ianto bit his lip thoughtfully. "There's no bed in our spare room," he said. "But we could lug in a mattress from somewhere."

Jack managed to keep the stupid grin off his face, but he felt warm inside at how easily the 'our' fell from Ianto's lips. He'd have to try that himself sometime.

"She could have our couch," Gwen offered. "Rhys won't mind, as long as I remind him to put a robe on before he goes for his cuppa in the morning. He scared the daylights out of Emma last time."

"There's a spare room or two in the house you've put me in," Mickey pointed out, when the resulting laughter had died down. "I'm surprised you didn't suggest it already, Ianto, mate. It'd save Torchwood the hotel bill."

Ianto cast him a sideways glance. "While I'm delighted you're developing some business sense, Mickey, it was hardly worth opening a house for the few days she'd planned to stay," he pointed out. "And I'd already booked the hotel before you chose the house."

Mickey waved a hand airily. "Hey, didn't mean to have a go." Ianto returned his smile, mollified, while Jack tried not to smirk.

"It's your choice," Mickey added, trying for casual and failing miserably. "It's a nice place, and I thought you might as well get more use of it, since you've got it open now."

Jack was the only one who didn't turn away to hide a smile at Mickey's failed attempt at nonchalance. His infatuation was no secret, not even to Martha herself.

"It's a good idea," Jack approved. "And she'll have it all to herself when you leave…..weren't you planning on heading off soon?"

Mickey scuffed his feet.

"Surely you'll stay on until Martha clears me for the field, Mickey," Ianto said, elbowing Jack subtly in the ribs.

Mickey grinned at him. "Since you asked so nicely," he agreed.

"Settled then," Jack said, with such obvious satisfaction that both Gwen and Ianto eyed him with suspicion.

"It'll be a bit of luxury to have an extra agent while she's settling in," he explained with an air of innocence they all knew better than to accept. "She could have a buddy. I'm sure one of you will volunteer."

Mickey turned abruptly back to the windows, but not before Jack got the chance to wallow in the rare sight of Mickey's cheeks darkening in response. His brief triumph crumbled beneath the twin onslaught of Ianto's elbow and Gwen's best dagger-glare, which made it an appropriate time to switch the focus back to the aliens in the boardroom. "I'd say there's at least a dozen in there," Jack commented.

"Maybe more," Gwen agreed, squinting. "That big one at the end might be a huddle. Or," she squinted again. "Perhaps not a huddle, exactly." Her eyes widened. "In fact, perhaps we shouldn't be watching…." Somehow the Tribbles had suddenly become slightly less cute.

Ianto frowned at no-one, evidently performing mental arithmetic. "So they've doubled overnight, at least." He turned an enquiring gaze on Jack. "I have to say, Jack, this casts a bit of doubt on your stance that they won't thrive in Earth's gravity."

Jack spread his hands helplessly, then burst into laughter as the pair of Tribbles Gwen had pointed out rolled off the boardroom table, landing on the floor without breaking contact. "They look like they're doing pretty well to me," he agreed. "Unless they're indulging in a populate or perish strategy."

Mickey turned away from the windows with a grin, with showing no signs of his recent blush. "It's those pheromones of yours, Jack. You've got the Weevils at it, now you've corrupted the poor little Tribbles."

Jack smiled philosophically, content to take his turn at being the brunt of the joke.

"Hey, I can take the credit for the Weevils, but I wasn't even there when you picked the Tribbles up," he pointed out. "No, given what they're up to in there, I think we can safely conclude that they're usually kept in low gravity to limit breeding."

They turned back to the windows with one accord.

"Last night we were pimping for Weevils, now we're hosting an alien orgy." Ianto noted. "On our boardroom table, no less."

"It's gonna take a bit of scrubbing before I'll be eating off it again," Mickey agreed.

"I thought they were so lovely," Gwen mourned. "I told Rhys all about them."

"You've got even more to tell him now," Jack said cheerfully.

Gwen shuddered. "I think this'll go under the Official Secrets Act."

Ianto cleared his throat. "On a more practical note," he said. "If they've doubled overnight and they're still at it, we can expect two dozen by tomorrow, close to fifty by the next day."

Jack blinked rapidly. "Right. To work then. Mickey, start scanning. We need to find these critters a freighter or two before they overrun the Hub."

Mickey threw him a salute and jogged off, still chuckling.

"And Gwen," Jack continued briskly. "Didn't you have an autopsy to attend?"

Gwen checked her watch. "I'm gonna be late," she yelped.

-XXX-

Martha stepped through the massive doorway, feeling slightly let down at the lack of welcoming cries before narrowly avoiding a collision with Gwen.

"You're early," Gwen squealed. "And I'm late," she added, pausing for only the briefest of hugs before continuing down the corridor. "Andy's taking me to an autopsy," Gwen called over her shoulder, her voice all but drowned out by the alarm. "See you later!"

Martha shook her head in bewilderment, wondering how long it would be before she, too, starting getting excited at the prospect of seeing a corpse, then continued across the Hub, drawn by the sight of Mickey hunched over a desk.

It was unfortunate that she didn't register the headphones clamped over his ears.

Mickey stiffened as the floor beneath his feet quivered from the impact of footsteps. Gwen had just left, and both Jack and Ianto were still contemplating the shag-fest in the boardroom. Face grim, body tensed for battle, Mickey spun on his chair, meeting the intruder with his sidearm already drawn.

Martha raised her hands. "I assume this means you weren't expecting me," she said resignedly.

Mickey gulped. "Martha! Well, no, not for hours yet. I mean, Jack said today, but…"

"And where _is _Jack, exactly?" Martha asked, anxiously watching the pistol as Mickey waved it for emphasis.

"Oh, sorry." Mickey hurriedly reengaged the safety before stowing the firearm in his holster. "Yeah, Jack's just up there. Go on up, he's only watching the alien orgy with Ianto."

-XXX-

Ianto eyed Jack with disapproval. "You should have let me warn him," he reproved, even as his lips twitched with repressed mirth.

Jack winked. "More fun this way!"

Ianto glanced at Mickey and winced. "You do realize he's banging his head on the desk, don't you?"

"That'd be my fault," Martha announced, approaching the men from the other side. She was slightly deflated when neither of them so much as flinched. Of course, the hugs more than made up for that. In fact, given the chill she'd left behind in London, the warmth of their welcome brought tears to her eyes.

"Apparently I crept up on him," Martha explained, when they released her. "Unintentionally, of course. I didn't plan to ring your disgustingly loud doorbell just when Gwen was leaving." Her eyebrows raised. "And I certainly didn't expect an invitation to an orgy."

"Oh, that," Ianto said, deadpan. "Don't worry, we aren't participating. Just observing." He flicked a hand towards the window.

Jack smiled broadly. "Welcome to Torchwood, Martha."

Yes, she really should have expected something like this. She was in Jack's world now.

And it felt good.

* * *

_Hope that was fun. It'll start heading towards angstytown in the next chapter or so._


	43. Valentine's Day 14

_Apologies once more for the delay. Huge thanks to Red Day Dawning for kicking my muses back into gear. Ending with a slight cliff as incentive to myself to post the next chapter soon….ish_

* * *

"You should've called from the station," Ianto scolded, as they paused on their way to medical bay to collect the pile of gear Martha had dumped near the cog. "Someone would've met the train."

"I drove," Martha explained. "I could bring more that way."

"So it would appear," Jack said, gazing curiously at the stack of metallic cases propped against the wall near the cog.

Martha winked. "These are just the basics. You should see what's in the car. Don't worry Ianto, it's all signed out correctly - and don't take that one," she scolded, snatching a square silver case from Ianto's hand. "It's too heavy."

"I'll take it," Jack offered, gifting Martha with a grateful smile.

Martha shook her head and hefted it herself, sliding the attached strap over her shoulder and staggering just a little as she adjusted to the weight. "I'll manage," she insisted. "If you really want to help, Jack, maybe you could get the others from the car?" She'd slipped possibly unconsciously into the 'it's an order but I'm making it sound like a suggestion' voice that the nicer officers tended to adopt.

Jack caught the keys she tossed him and clicked his heels together. "Yes Ma'am," he teased.

Martha shook her head. "Okay, I know. Habit. Sorry." She then smiled sweetly up at Jack. "You'll have a bit of a hike, I'm afraid. Someone's changed the code on the garage since the last time I was here, so I had to park across the other side of the Plass."

Jack sighed, reassumed his smile, and trudged towards the cog, muttering about the evils of being surrounded by manipulative women.

Martha giggled. "Now don't look at me like that," she told Ianto, as soon as Jack was out of earshot. "I'm just keeping on his good side until I've had a chance to check you over properly. Not to mention getting him out of the way for a bit. Unless you_ want _him hovering, of course?"

Ianto's eyes widened. Manipulative indeed. He'd seen for himself that Jack was comfortable with Martha in a way he never was with anyone outside their team, but he hadn't suspected she'd know exactly how to press Jack's buttons. This could be dangerous – and fun. Ianto returned Martha's frankly mischievous smile and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'll ask him to pick up lunch as well," he said.

A muffled laugh showed that Mickey had been, not to mince words, eavesdropping.

"Oh, so _now_ you can hear through headphones," Martha called.

Mickey swung around, one headphone still fixed to his ear, the other sitting awkwardly towards the back of his head. "Didn't want to be caught napping again," he explained. If Mickey was standing, Ianto thought, his feet would have been shuffling. Poor bloke. Unrequited love was a cruel thing.

Martha smiled at Mickey. Mickey smiled back. Their eyes met. Perhaps not so unrequited, then, which possibly edged it into the tragic category, given that Martha was committed to someone else. Ianto half expected to hear violins, but had to concede that the muted singing of the Tribbles – a mating song, perhaps? – was a particularly appropriate substitute.

"Um, actually I could use your help in the med bay, Mickey, when you've got a minute," Martha said, the tiniest bit flustered as she roused herself from what might actually have been a daze. Rebound, she warned herself hastily, and Mickey deserved better, and if Ianto kept smirking like that she might have to temporarily forget the Hippocratic Oath.

Mickey blinked. "Ah, yeah, sure, only I've got to wait until this translation comes through. Might have a home for those Tribbles already." He smiled fondly at his terminal. "Lovely translation program, that one. Your technician was a right genius, Ianto."

Ianto swallowed hard. "She was," he agreed. Tosh wouldn't want them moping, he reminded himself, and she'd be pleased that the programs she'd labored on were still being used and appreciated. Ianto gave himself a mental shake and got on with it. "But you should've run it past Jack before you set up a meeting," he chided.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Captain's pet," he accused.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to go there, Mickey?"

"God no," Mickey responded. "And I was gonna clear it with him before I did the transfer anyway," he added, before swinging back to face Martha. "And how may I serve _you_, Madam? Once I've finished chatting up – that is, chatting_ to_ – my freighter Captain?" His grin broadened. "It's practically on-line dating, this."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Which confirms my theory that any issues you have with Jack stem from being too much alike," he said. "Just make sure you cover up anything potentially poisonous."

Martha fumed quietly. They were wasting time. Ianto should know better than to encourage Mickey in something so potentially dangerous. They'd only end up having to rescue him from one of the many forms of space-faring hussy she'd had to peel off The Doctor.

"And be sure to check she's not one of the races who eat the male after mating," Ianto added.

Mickey looked at his friend, eyes wide with horror. "Maybe I'll stick to humans," he decided. "Human women, that is, just so you don't start giving Jack any ideas."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "He has plenty of his own without any encouragement from me, I assure you."

Martha smiled on them both, then cleared her throat. "C'mon, Ianto, let's see what I can do about getting you field-worthy. Mickey, I thought it'd be a good idea if you gave my gadgets the once over before I start using them on Ianto."

"Aye Ma'am," Mickey answered, eyes lighting at the prospect. Far more than they'd lit at the prospect of his alien hussy, Martha noted, with a wave of satisfaction at his devotion to his job. Or so she assured herself repeatedly as Ianto followed her into the medical bay.

Ianto slid onto the examination table and waited, battling an obscure ache unrelated to his aching ribs as Martha bustled around, already at home in Owen's domain. The same ache he'd had when Mickey praised Tosh's work; and it wasn't fair on either of them.

Martha looked up and met his gaze. "I'm not replacing him," she said softly. "Just picking up where he left off. Mickey, too – but you know that, don't you? It's just hard to watch, right?"

Ianto nodded, feeling slightly foolish but also immeasurably better for the acknowledgement. Evidently Martha was one of those rare doctors who knew how to salve the intangible wounds with the same skill she handled physical damage.

Ianto smiled as he noted that Martha had even turned to rifle through the cupboards while he composed himself. No wonder Mickey was head over heels. He needed someone like Martha, a steadying influence yet with a streak of adventure to match his, and strong enough to go toe to toe with him. And from what he'd just seen, Martha liked Mickey too, possibly a bit more than she should while engaged to someone else. Ianto's eyes followed the path of his thoughts, coming to rest on Martha's ring finger.

"I'll need that scanner Owen was so fond of," Martha said, voice echoing from inside one of the cupboards.

"The Bekaran scanner?" Ianto asked, instead of all the questions which flooded his mind at the lack of the elegantly understated diamond she'd worn last time she was here. It was none of his business. If Martha wanted him to know, she'd tell him. He wondered if Mickey had noticed the bare finger yet.

Martha's head emerged back into the room. "That's the one," she agreed. "I found something in Unit medical that I'm pretty sure fits with it. Owen thought so, too." She smiled sadly. "I kept promising I'd bring it for him to look at it - along with all the other gadgets we thought might be compatible with the pieces here." Martha shook her head and straightened her shoulders. "Better late than never, I guess. Anyway, if it works, we'll have those ribs of yours sorted in a fraction of the time it would take for them to heal naturally."

Ianto frowned slightly. "At the risk of being Captain's pet again," he began.

Martha waved him into silence. "As CMO, however interim, I have discretion over all things medical," she assured him. "Once the resident technician has declared the equipment safe, the only consent I need is yours."

Ianto's face stilled as his thoughts wavered. Martha's reasoning was perfectly sound, except that Jack wasn't _just_ his boss anymore. Still, the tension between them since he'd been hurt was getting pretty close to unbearable, and his injuries were at the heart of it. It could only help to remove the physical reminders, and the sooner the better, surely. Besides which, Ianto desperately wanted to be strong again, and he _didn't_ want to have to examine the sneaking suspicion that Jack would prefer to keep him weak. "Two cupboards over," he directed.

Martha emerged with the scanner just as Mickey jogged down the stairs and fell onto the collection of alien tech with what might well have been a cry of delight, if a muffled, manly one.

Martha smiled indulgently. Ianto tried his best not to smirk. Mickey punched him in the arm regardless.

-XXX-

Jack stepped off the lift, a carrier bag from the bakery dangling from one arm and one of Martha's cases clutched in the other. His arrival was marked by a notable lack of colleagues rushing to assist him to clear the rest of the cases from the stone. In fact, were it not for the open message channel on Mickey's terminal, Jack would have assumed the Hub was deserted. However dubious his current feelings towards the man he couldn't help seeing as a rival, Jack knew Mickey was far too professional to leave their comms unsecured.

Gwen's bag was still missing from her desk, which meant she wasn't back from her meeting with Andy. The resourceful PC had probably seized the opportunity to buy Gwen lunch, not so much for the flirting these days as to hand over his updated resume. Jack thought he might actually read it over properly this time, what with Mickey hell-bent on leaving. The notion resulted in a pang of guilt, not just from the knowledge that he'd basically chased Mickey off himself, but on Rhys' behalf as well. Gwen's husband would be about as keen on Andy working with Gwen as Jack was at having Mickey around Ianto.

Jack dropped the lunch bag on the nearest desk and checked whether there'd been any Rift alerts in his absence, while idly examining the progression of his thoughts. Since when did he worry about the effect his decisions would have on his team's partners? Since he'd gone and gotten one of his own, no doubt. Jack shook his head to chase away the errant thoughts, hopefully shaking the dopey smile off his face in the process. There'd been no alerts, so the rest of his team was here somewhere. Conspiring, probably. Ah, yes. Jack grabbed another case from the lift and followed the sound of voices to the medical bay.

The sight that met his eyes dried his throat, which admittedly would be his usual reaction to finding Ianto with his shirt off. But it wasn't the sight of his lover sitting on the metal table, chest exposed, eyes half-shut and sweat beading his brow that drove the breath from Jack's chest.

Because behind Ianto, with his arms twining around the pale shoulders, was Mickey.

_Thank you for reading._


	44. Valentine's Day 15

_Thank you for the lovely comments last chapter. Sorry for leaving the cliff hanging. In this chapter they all step over it, just a bit..._

* * *

Jack could scarcely feel the steps beneath his feet. He would later be grateful for the heavy cases in his arms which prevented him from flying forward to tear Mickey's hands off _his_ Ianto.

The scene below might have been imported direct from amongst the visions which haunted him just between sleeping and waking. Night-time images where every repressed insecurity came out to play, banished on waking by the sound, the scent, the feel of Ianto sleeping beside him, purged as sleepy blue eyes looked into his and pink lips curved in a drowsy smile.

Until now. Now there were none of the usual comforts speeding to his rescue. Ianto's eyes were closed, his breathing ragged, his brow etched with tension, and the body Ianto leaned against was Mickey's. Jack's senses shrieked in protest, then whimpered and hid, leaving him numb. The cases finally slid from his nerveless hands to settle with two distinct thuds onto the floor at either side of the staircase. Jack's now unburdened hands flexed, closing into fists, and his head came up, eyes locking on Mickey's.

Who, against all current expectations, returned Jack's demanding gaze squarely, showing neither triumph nor guilt, though there was a decided hint of 'bloody idiot'.

This, Jack reminded himself, was why he didn't do jealousy. He was too damned good at it.

His eyes dropped, seeking Ianto's instead, hoping for reassurance and finding lids still closed. Confrontation and stand-down had taken only seconds. Jack marveled at how much could be said without sound, so much, and so quickly.

Mickey cleared his throat. "Um, Martha…."

Ianto's eyes flickered open at last. There was welcome in the blue gaze, maybe a touch of apprehension, but no defiance, no guilt. Jack suspected he was going to feel terribly stupid once the last dregs of blinding fury abated, and couldn't help wishing less of his team was present to witness it.

Because he hadn't even _noticed_ Martha, bending awkwardly from Owen's old rolling office chair, one hand braced on the examination table while the other traced a path along pale skin. Nothing to waken Jack's demons there, because the pose screamed 'medical examination' and her eyes were focused not on the expanse of Welsh abdomen but on an object to her left. The Bekaran scanner, Jack noted. Martha was watching the scanner instead of the drama unfolding around her, which was either very professional or very unobservant. But what the hell was she touching Ianto _with_? And why was Mickey touching Ianto _at all_?

"One second," Martha muttered. "Or rather, three…two…one." At which she straightened, one hand darting to the small of her back, the other carefully thumbing the controls of something which looked mysteriously like a department store scanning gun, albeit a miniaturized version.

Mickey's arms promptly unwound from Ianto's shoulders. Ianto's shirt fell back into place. He'd been wearing a shirt, unbuttoned, and here came those feelings of immense stupidity because Mickey hadn't been touching Ianto at all, not really. Not in the way that belonged only to Jack.

The tension began bleeding out of Jack's muscles, and it was a damned good thing he'd put the cases down, because otherwise he'd have dropped them as his hands unclenched.

Ianto's hands dropped to his ribs, scratching furiously, his face relaxing into lines of relief. Mickey smirked down at his friend. "Itches, huh?"

"Like a bitch," Ianto agreed. Jack couldn't help the smile that bent his lips. Ianto was picking up Mickey's vocabulary, which sounded both wrong and unbearably endearing in those cultured tones.

"Don't break the skin," Martha cautioned, her eyes now flickering from her patient to Jack.

"You can take over Jack, now you're here," Mickey prompted, stepping back.

Jack moved into place behind Ianto, soothed by the way the young man immediately leaned back against him. His brain ticked over, returning to reason instead of running on instinct, putting the pieces together, not liking what he found. Jack let his eyes rest on Martha, questioning, assessing, and to his dismay saw her stiffen defensively.

"You left something running up there, Mickey," Jack commented, jerking his head up towards the main Hub while his hands curled around Ianto's shoulders.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm waiting on a reply," he explained, casually, conversationally, as though the air he moved through wasn't heavy with the potential for mayhem. "I've found someone interested in taking those Tribbles. Well, a few, actually, but only one with shielded transporters. They were sending co-ordinates for a pick up. Want me to go ahead?"

The subtext was making Ianto dizzy. Or maybe that was Jack's pheromones. They seemed particularly strong just at the moment, and the hands on his shoulders felt heavier than normal, the grip slightly tighter. It ought to be soothing but it felt possessive instead, and Ianto wasn't sure he liked the feeling. In fact, he was rapidly becoming convinced that he didn't.

Jack nodded at Mickey before finally letting his gaze return to Martha, boring into her until her stubborn hands-on-hips stance dissolved into shuffles, before shifting back to Mickey. "You won't be able to fit them all in your van," Jack told him. "When Gwen gets back, ask her to see if Rhys can help us out."

Mickey swept the room with his gaze, exchanged glances with Martha that Jack couldn't interpret, and then sailed past Jack, applying a slap to the older man's shoulder as he went. "Will do, boss."

Jack watched him go, unexpectedly relieved, reluctantly grateful. He'd been mentally geared to challenge Mickey, he supposed, both for Ianto and for the slot of leader of this battered, precious team, and Mickey had just conceded both without a fight. With hardly a word, and none of them direct.

Just as Gwen had, at her wedding reception, when she'd ceded Jack's hand to Ianto with no sign of either victory or retreat. Gracious, yes, even noble. But Jack knew now, as he hadn't then, how uncertain was the grip on a prize you hadn't won.

-XXX-

Mickey's footsteps faded. The air in the medical bay seemed heavier without his presence.

"Is anyone going to tell me what's been happening while I was playing packhorse?" Jack asked, his tone terribly casual. Ianto twitched beneath clenching hands. Jack loosened his grip, rubbing apologetically instead, but his gaze didn't falter from Martha.

"I was treating Ianto's ribs," Martha explained promptly. "Which unless I'm mistaken is why I'm here."

Ianto twisted in Jack's arms, showing no sign of the stiffness which had marred his movements lately. "It worked, see?" he said, looking up expectantly, hopeful smile fading when it failed to garner a response from Jack. "God, it itched though," Ianto added, turning back to face Martha. "You could've warned me, Martha."

Even to his own ears Ianto sounded whiny. He'd liked to have put it down to the fact that Jack was doing up his shirt buttons, a process he was much more accustomed to in reverse, but he knew it was more likely his annoyance at Jack's attitude coming through. The same Jack who'd run Martha ragged with constant demands for updates on Ianto's recovery and was now hammering the poor doctor for achieving it weeks ahead of schedule.

"I _did_ warn you, Ianto," Martha replied patiently. "Several weeks' worth of healing compacted into minutes was bound to itch. I suggested restraints, remember? You rolled your eyes at me and insisted you could handle it. Then after I started you wriggled so much I had to yell for Mickey to hold you still so I didn't knit your ribs together."

Ianto smiled sheepishly. Jack shook his head, waves of relief alternating with inexplicable apprehension. Ianto was moving more easily than he had for weeks. That was a good thing, right?

Then again, did Martha say _restraints_? On _Ianto_.

"OK, so _what_ worked, exactly?" Jack asked, hearing the strain in his voice over the buzzing in his ears. This was Martha, he reminded himself firmly. He owed it to her to confirm his suspicions before acting, but if he was right, if she'd sailed in and lured him away so she could use Ianto as a test subject….

Martha held up the item which looked like a retail scanning gun. "Owen and I had been trading notes for a while, and we thought this might be compatible with the Bekaran scanner," she explained. "And so it is. So far I've identified about a quarter of the settings, amongst which," and here she paused to gesture dramatically at Ianto. "Is bone knitting. Brilliant, huh?"

Martha's eyes were shining. Jack swallowed against a wave of nausea. She wasn't even_ trying_ to make excuses. Worse, she actually sounded proud of herself. And if Mickey hadn't come down she'd have used _restraints_.

Ianto shifted against him, nudging Jack's chest, a silent and pointed reminder that whatever Martha had done, it had succeeded. All well and good on the surface, but it didn't alter the fact that she'd used Ianto as a guinea pig. Jack inhaled heavily, determined not to raise his voice, venting his fury and fear with words instead.

"Obviously I didn't get you away from Unit fast enough."

The words hung in the air, weighted by their sheer venom, before plunging down to wipe the animation from Martha's face.

Ianto reached up, laying a hand on Jack's arm, feeling the rigid muscles beneath. Muscles that didn't loosen even a fraction at his touch. His hand could have been a fly on Jack's arm, less even, because a fly would have been brushed away. Beneath his calm exterior, Ianto began to seethe.

"Because," Jack continued, still in that terribly calm voice, "I'm having trouble working out how the Martha I know, the Martha that I _trust_, would not only test equipment on my …. On a member of my team, without my consent, but play on that trust to get me out of the way while she did it."

"She had _my_ consent, Jack," Ianto pointed out, keeping his own voice level with effort. It was a point of honor with himself that he never argued with Jack with other team members present, neither professionally or personally - and he suspected this was both. But he couldn't stay silent while Jack attacked Martha.

Jack merely glowered down at him. Not the reaction Ianto was looking for, not at all. "And we'll be discussing that later," Jack hissed.

Ianto's face heated, then paled. This was the return he got for keeping his temper in check. The humiliation of being scolded like an errant child. His hands shook as he tucked the shirt back into his trousers. If Jack even noticed, Ianto thought bitterly, he'd probably blame Martha for that, too.

Martha's eyes flashed a warning at Jack. He'd hurt her with what he'd said, more so with what he'd implied, but whatever misconception he was laboring under could be sorted out later. Right now Jack was a commanding officer upsetting her patient, a scenario Martha was well versed in managing. She stiffened her spine and sent his glare right back at him, backed with all the authority of a doctor defending her patient. If Jack's gaze didn't falter, at least it felt less intimidating.

Which meant she could ignore it. Jack would hate that. Tough. Martha broke the staring match with a toss of her head and turned to Ianto instead.

"So how does it feel now, Ianto?" she asked brightly.

Ianto's head swung from side to side for a moment, taking them both in. Any chivalrous thoughts he might have harbored about staying to defend Martha dissolved. She was ignoring Jack at least as pointedly as he'd ignored her when he waltzed down the stairs. Clever Martha. Jack could handle anything except being disregarded, and she obviously knew it. She'd be fine on her own, and Ianto needed to get away before he said something he'd regret.

"Awkward," Ianto announced. He slid off the table, shrugging aside the hands that sought to close on his shoulders. "No _Sir_, it's better I leave," Ianto said, venting his own anger in formality so icy it pierced through Jack's fury and rendered him mute. "It would appear that you're about to reprimand the medical officer and it would be bad form to do so in the presence of a patient."

Jack's righteous rage shriveled into a terribly cold lump and settled somewhere under his sternum.

Not trusting himself to look at Jack right now, let alone speak to him, Ianto turned to Martha. "It feels brilliant," he answered. The smile was for her, a warm, genuine smile of gratitude, but his voice was pitched to carry to Jack as well. "I'd almost forgotten how it feels to be able to move without pain. Thank you, Doctor Jones."

"My pleasure, Mr Jones," Martha answered, the playful formality doing much towards restoring her sense of balance. It was hardly the first time she'd had a patient's partner lash out at her, after all. Partner. Martha shook her head. Jack could hardly blame any of them for not thinking of him in that respect, given how he'd concealed his feelings for Ianto for so long, probably even from Ianto himself. Martha still suffered agonies of embarrassment when she remembered how she'd behaved towards Ianto on her first visit. Quizzing him about their sex life, for goodness sake, and just to cap it off, kissing Jack goodbye with Ianto standing right there watching.

No, it wasn't unexpected for Jack to be reacting defensively. It just hurt more because they were friends, friends who should have trusted each other, and hadn't. She cleared her throat. "I'd like to do a follow-up tomorrow, Ianto, but you're good to go."

At which she turned to her instruments, presenting Jack with a rigidly unforgiving spine.

-XXX-

Ianto landed in the chair beside Mickey with a graceless thump. Mickey wisely kept silent, inspecting his friend out of the corner of his eye as he unbent paper clips.

"He's an idiot," Ianto announced eventually.

"Well, yeah," Mickey said, looking at his friend sideways. "But I think this is the bit where I remind you he's _your_ idiot, right?"

Ianto swiveled on his chair. "I'm sitting here trying to think of something – _anything_ - that makes it OK for him to be pissed that I've stopped creaking when I breathe."

Mickey shrugged. "I don't think he's got that far, to be honest. I mean, all he saw, really, was me holding you down while Martha prodded you with some unfamiliar tech or the other."

Ianto sighed. This was a fine time for Mickey to start being reasonable.

-XXX-

"Martha," Jack began, in a tone that wasn't quite wheedling.

"If I _was _typical UNIT," Martha said, still not turning to face him. "I wouldn't be hanging around to listen to you trying to justify yourself."

Jack sagged into the nearest chair. "I shouldn't have said what I did," he admitted. "I didn't mean it, Martha. You know I didn't. I'm sorry, OK? But you've gotta see how bad it looked."

If she was looking at him, Martha knew she'd be seeing that repentant naughty little boy thing he was so good at, which didn't change the fact that his regret was genuine. Jack was only angry because he was scared. Martha understood that, however much his words had hurt, however much she wanted to slap him around the head until he started seeing straight.

"What_ I_ saw," Martha said, still presenting Jack with her white-clad back, "Was the supposedly unflappable Captain Jack so cross-eyed with jealousy he was seeing all sorts of things that weren't there, and taking it out on the ones he knew wouldn't fight back."

"I don't do…" Jack began, then gulped. It was unsettling how well Martha knew him. "OK, apparently I do. I do jealousy, and I'm getting scarily adept at it. So this is where you take pity on me."

Martha found her mouth twitching in spite of her herself. Sighing, she turned. Yes, there was the little boy, just as she'd expected, scuffing his boots against the floor and peering at her from beneath his eyelashes. It was impossible to stay angry with him. Irritation, though, she could manage quite well.

"I only say this 'cause I love you, Jack," Martha said resignedly, finding a chair of her own to sink into. "You, my friend, are an idiot."

Jack huffed out an exasperated breath. "OK, I overreacted, I get that. But damn it, Martha, I didn't imagine that you tested that thing on Ianto, did I? _And_ you got me out of the way while you did it. And….and so did he," Jack concluded glumly. He'd been quietly chuffed about Ianto asking him to pick up lunch instead of stubbornly insisting on doing it himself, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit to realize it was just a ploy.

"I kind of put him up to that," Martha said promptly. "Don't take this out on him, Jack. He wanted to check with you first, I'm the one who pulled rank. And of course I wanted you out of the way. You'd have stopped me."

Jack's eyes flashed with returning fire. "Damn right I would. No-one experiments on my team."

Regrettably, Martha snorted. "Singularity scalpel," she said pointedly. "Owen had a marked lack of success with it before me and my Mayfly, as I recall."

"That was an emergency," Jack argued. "Good try, Martha, but there's really no comparison."

"Of course there isn't," Martha agreed, her face suddenly serene. Jack eyed her with wordless suspicion.

"Because the tool I used on Ianto isn't experimental."

-XXX-

Mickey grinned across at a despondent Ianto. "This sort of thing," he said wisely, "Is exactly why I stick with the single life."

Ianto swung to face his friend, a tiny smile playing with his lips. "So you'd not be interested to know that Martha's engagement ring seems to have gone missing, then?"

Mickey seemed to develop a problem with the muscles controlling his jaw.

"And she's down here for an indefinite visit," Ianto continued. "Not the sort of thing you'd expect with a fiancé waiting back in London. If she still had one."

Mickey swallowed heavily.

"She seems quite happy to take one of the rooms in that safe house you're using," Ianto continued idly. "But I suppose I can find somewhere else. Considering how much you value your solitude."

Mickey cleared his throat. "Um….yeah, well, it's Torchwood's property isn't it? Hardly my place to object."

Ianto smiled slowly. "Y'know, it'd be helpful if you stayed a bit longer," he suggested. "Just until she's settled in a bit."

Mickey sighed. "You're a bad man, Ianto Jones."

-XXX-

"Go on, tell me," Jack muttered into the cradle of his hands. "Tell me exactly what a fool I've just made of myself. Don't pull any punches."

"I've been working with the calcium regenerator setting for months," Martha replied promptly, then frowned. "Boring name, that. I'll have to ask Ianto for a better one…..Anyway, I can join up eggshells with it so you'd never know they were cracked." Martha smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "And didn't that lead to some fun times with the canteen staff."

Jack glanced up, surprised and relieved by the return to lightness.

"The only point of uncertainty today was whether it would work in conjunction with the Bekaran scanner," Martha continued. "So I could pinpoint the bone fractures without having to open up the skin. But it does, even better than I'd hoped. See?"

Jack felt something press lightly against his own arm. He looked up, to see the scanner almost in front of his face, displaying the bones in his arm overlaid by wavering crosshairs, as Martha ran the trigger device along his skin. A real-time, portable x-ray, or perhaps an ultrasound. Jack was impressed in spite of himself.

"Clever, huh?" Martha said with satisfaction. "But I still had Mickey test it before it got anywhere near Ianto."

Jack looked from her to the technology, then back. "Should I apologise again?" he said with resignation. "Or should I go straight onto the groveling?"

Martha smiled, not her sweetest. "It's not me you've got to worry about, Jack."

-XXX-

"You think you're so clever, tempting me into staying," Mickey grumbled.

Ianto merely smiled. A smile hovering perilously close to a smirk.

"But the thing is," Mickey continued, producing a smirk of his own. "It goes both ways. The longer I stay, the better my chances are of recruiting you."

Ianto's smile faltered. "Mickey…..I mean, really, after what just happened…."

"That's just given me more ammunition," Mickey insisted. "You and Jack aren't good working together right now, you gotta see that. He's too protective and you're too prickly. Something's gotta give, work or home, and all joking aside, I reckon you know what's more important if it comes to the crunch."

Ianto turned away, to begin sorting through the bulging bakery bag Jack had brought back – because he'd asked. Because he'd wanted his boss out of the way so he could undergo a treatment his…partner…boyfriend…whatever – wouldn't have approved.

Ianto trudged off to the kitchen to store Gwen's lunch in the fridge. After some thought, he put Martha's in there too, then took Jack's into his office and left it on the desk with wistful thoughts of how they'd normally be eating together.

Much as it irked him to admit it, Mickey had a valid point. He and Jack had work and home so badly mixed up it was no wonder Gwen had taken to appraising them carefully each morning before she dared speak to either of them. Ianto wondered guiltily if that was why Gwen hadn't made the usual complaints about attending an autopsy.

Mickey had apparently used Ianto's absence to polish his arguments. "Thing is," he began, before Ianto had a chance to sit down, "Even apart from the criminal waste of talent, I can't see you as the 'stay at home' type."

Ianto sighed. "Me either," he admitted, dropping back into his chair. He was missing field work already, only days after pulling off an interplanetary rescue. And Jack might be obsessed with keeping him safe at the moment, but Ianto had his doubts about how long that version of himself would hold Jack's interest. So dialing back his field activity wasn't the answer. Dialing back his relationship with Jack wasn't even an option. Ianto extracted his salad roll from the bottom of the bag and inspected it with a touch of gloom. This was another side effect of his enforced inactivity – the calories were already finding places to settle.

"But if you come into business with me," Mickey said persuasively. "You could have both."

Ianto handed over the last lunch bag with a glare. "Give it a rest, Mickey," he said firmly.

Mickey unwrapped his lunch, careful to show no sign of triumph. He'd lost track of the number of times he'd asked Ianto to leave Torchwood and work with him instead. It had almost become a game.

But the stakes had just gone up. This was the first time Ianto hadn't refused.

* * *

_We had fluff, we had Tribbles. There has to be angst...soon_

_Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed._


	45. Valentine's Day 16

**I cringed when I realised how long it had been since an update. Thank you for hanging in there, especially the lovely people who have begun following during the inexcusable hiatus. There were reasons, but I'm sure you don't want to know, so have my apologies and this instead. It has Tribbles, hugs and flirting. Though strangely, none of it with Jack.**

* * *

Martha preceded Jack into the main Hub, a completely cowardly action on his part, as he'd sent her in advance to test the air before venturing forth himself. Ianto's head rose from a somewhat dispirited perusal of the contents of the paper-wrapped bundle on the desk before him, greeting Martha with a smile which dazzled her and left Jack with a faint ache. After a brief exchange that Jack couldn't hear, Martha backtracked towards the kitchen, sending him an encouraging smile on her way.

Jack inhaled heavily, cursed himself for a coward, and then jogged up the stairs, gathering enough momentum for what would have been an impressive sweep across the Hub to his office, head high and back straight.

"I put your lunch on your desk, Jack," Ianto announced, just as Jack drew parallel with his desk, freezing him midstride. Because, in every way that held any real significance, Ianto was a bigger man than Jack, and always would be, for which Jack would one day learn to be grateful instead of sneakily resentful.

"Given that the Tribbles are still occupying the conference room," Ianto concluded, looking up at Jack with what wasn't quite a forced smile.

"And apparently can't tell the difference between a loaf of bread and a potential mate," Mickey added, from the next desk over. He shuddered dramatically. "Putting paid to what would've been a very good lunch."

The three men laughed, easing the tension as Mickey had no doubt intended. Or possibly as the two of them had pre-planned, Jack thought sourly, or could it be that the two were now so in tune with each other that they didn't even _have _to preplan? They were, after all, currently finishing each other's sentences.

"Did he mention he was still eating it at the time?" Ianto added, grinning wickedly. Jack delivered the requisite chuckle while trying to ignore the harping of the green-eyed demon which insisted that no-one should evoke that particular grin from Ianto except himself.

"I'll never look at a ciabatta the same way again," Mickey confirmed. "Still, we'll be shot of our fluffy friends tomorrow." He tipped his head towards Jack. "Transfer's ready to roll, sent all the info to you for approval."

Jack was spared the effort of finding a response which would sound neither dismissive nor condescending when Mickey ducked beneath his desk, to emerge with a coil of cable draped over his shoulder. "I'll go get started," he told Ianto. "See you in there when you're ready." He left, with a nod in Jack's direction to which started out casual but became loaded with significance as soon as Ianto's head bent back towards his screen. Jack returned the nod with a scowl. Mickey upped the ante with a broad grin, then turned and loped towards the conference room, closing the door behind him with enough force that the echoes roused Myfanwy into a sleepy protest.

Jack looked down at Ianto's dark head, feeling the now-familiar clenching within his gut. "Lunch in my office, then?" he asked softly. "Join me?"

"Later, you said," Ianto replied, failing to look up. Jack watched the tendons in the back of his neck twitch and tried not to sag too obviously. "Ianto…"

From the kitchen, cupboard doors rattled, quite unnecessarily, as Martha's lunch was already on a plate. "And considering that they could hardly be more obvious about giving us privacy, that 'later' was probably the only thing you got right down there," Ianto added, favoring Jack with a lightning-fast upwards glance containing a barely-there smile. "Let's keep it for home, yeah?" He scrunched the remains of his lunch into a ball and lobbed it towards his wastepaper bin with a hollow clang.

The tiny smile, however tense, coupled with the reference to 'home' gave Jack the usual and badly needed tingle. He glanced from one obviously closed door to the other and found himself missing Gwen's good-natured disregard for discretion. Perhaps, he thought ruefully, she was not so much oblivious as inured. "Home, then," he agreed tightly.

"I'll be in the conference room, sexing Tribbles," Ianto informed him, mouth twitching into a real smile at the expression on Jack's face. "It's all in the files Mickey sent you," he explained, "Not something to do over lunch, as you heard, so don't bring any crumbs into the boardroom, OK?"

Jack watched Ianto vanish into the conference room with bemusement, then shrugged and made his way to an unattractively empty office, trying not to dwell on the fact that any other day, Ianto would have waited to share lunch with him, or a coffee at the very least. Stupid, he told himself. Petty, wanting to muscle in on a task that his team could manage easily, just because it sounded fun. Work to be done first, he reminded himself, as his inbox filled with a chime that managed to sound accusing. He'd got himself just about convinced, even started feeling just a bit noble, when a peal of laughter drifted back from the conference room. Jack sat back and sighed, no longer able to dismiss the sting of being gently but deliberately excluded.

-XXX-

Gwen entered an unexpectedly peaceful Hub. So quiet, in fact, that she was already scanning for Rift alerts when she heard voices coming from the boardroom. Long experience had shown the wisdom of checking before opening any door which might have Jack and Ianto on the other side, so she peered through the window before alerting anyone to her presence.

On the other side of the window was chaos, of the organized kind common to Torchwood. The boardroom tables were tipped over and arranged into wobbly lines, dividing the room into thirds. Mickey and Ianto were laying some sort of cable across the tops of the makeshift barriers, while Martha squatted amongst the mass of Tribbles herded into the end nearest Gwen.

There was no sign of Jack. Unbearably curious now, Gwen rapped on the door. Martha it with a grin. "Come in," she invited, waving a hand which incidentally contained an upside-down alien of the furry purple kind. "We're sexing Tribbles and we need all the help we can get."

Ianto looked across from the far end of the room, meeting Gwen's wide-eyed expression with a rueful grin. "We have not in fact suffered an explosion in the conference room," he announced dryly. "It apparently didn't occur to Mickey that Torchwood's endless archives might contain actual barriers, so he was improvising before I could stop him."

Mickey waved a dismissive hand. "You'd have had to find somewhere for the tables anyway."

Ianto shook his head – fondly, Gwen noticed, oddly reminiscent of the way he did when Jack wasn't looking – and smiled across at Gwen. "I put your lunch in the fridge," he told her. "Only a sandwich, I'm afraid. I didn't think you'd have much appetite after an autopsy."

"I ate with Andy," Gwen answered, then flushed at her own apparent callousness.

Martha looked up with an understanding smile. "It's the preserving fluids," she said knowledgeably. "The smell of them makes you damnably hungry. How'd it go, anyway?"#

Gwen looked at Ianto. "It was a Verdigrine," she said succinctly. "Found floating in the bay. Again. The coroner is on board, but I had to Retcon the morgue attendant."

Ianto merely nodded. The other two looked on expectantly. "For those of us not up with Torchwood shorthand," Mickey prompted.

"Colony ship crashed through the Rift in the eighties," Ianto explained rapidly. "Externally humanlike, so they integrated quite smoothly."

"Except that they occasionally persist in their traditional funeral rites which involve casting the corpse into open water," Gwen continued, when Ianto paused for breath.

"And they've got green blood, due to having a copper-based circulatory system where we've got iron," Ianto added. "So we end up with..."

"Little green men corpses in the Bay," Mickey finished. "Neat." *

*Martha lowered the Tribble in her hand and fixed Mickey with a reproving stare, shaking her head. "Corpses are not neat, Mickey. Ever."

Mickey grinned back unrepentantly. "C'mon love, it probably died happy in its bed."

Gwen thought Martha's expression might have darkened just a fraction, though in annoyance or from the endearment she couldn't have said. It was interesting, though.

"I'll have to speak to their liaison again, for all the good it does," Ianto told Gwen, either unaware of the blatant flirting or ignoring it. "Actually, I think this time Jack should try. They might pay more attention to him."

Gwen looked around curiously. There was so much going on that she honestly hadn't registered the absence. "Where _is _Jack?" she asked.

"Sulking," Mickey answered promptly. "I wouldn't," he added, when Gwen took an almost automatic step towards the door. "He had an almighty head of steam going and didn't get to unleash it. You'd be a moving target. Stay here and play Tribbles with us instead." He waved a sheet of paper at her enticingly. "We've got diagrams!"

Gwen watched smiles break out across the room and hesitated, torn between joining what looked to be a rare lighthearted occasion and going to Jack's side when he'd evidently been cold-shouldered by the others, including his own boyfriend. As the thought settled, she found herself eyeing Ianto with a hint of accusation. He met her gaze briefly, cheeks beginning to flush, then shrugged and returned to adjusting the string of cables at his end of the boardroom.

Gwen took the sheet Mickey pressed into her hands, examining it absently as she turned towards Jack's office, taking in the drawn blinds, the closed door, indications that interruptions wouldn't be welcomed. She'd ignored the signs more than once, often on occasions just like this one, offended on Jack's behalf and rushing to be there for him. She'd often told herself that even if the resulting arguments hadn't always resolved anything, at the very least Jack had been able to vent his mood on her and not the Prime Minister.

For possibly the first time, Gwen wondered whether Jack would have _needed _to vent, if she'd just followed Ianto's cue in the first place. Her head swung back to examine the young man, noting the tense line of his shoulders, though he hadn't made a move nor said a word to stop her. Recent memories rose to the surface, moments of crisis of the Jack-related kind, where she'd found herself asking 'what would Ianto do' instead of following her own instincts. Each had ended well. Better, she admitted now, than if she'd followed her own path. Deep within Gwen the scattered fragments drew together, clicked, connected.

Ianto knew Jack best. Therefore, if Ianto thought Jack needed to be alone, then he did. Easy. Why hadn't she realised before?

Gwen emerged from her daze just as Ianto straightened and stepped away from the string of cables draped across the edges of the boardroom table. "Ready to test," he called.

"Best you get clear then," Mickey called back.

Gwen's mouth fell open slightly as the young man who'd hardly managed to move without wincing for weeks vaulted the line of tables nearest him, then the next, and landed lightly before her, smiling a smile so boyish that it actually looked right on his face.

"You're better," Gwen exclaimed, flinging her arms around him impulsively. She half expected him to flinch from the pressure on his ribs, but he smiled down instead, a suspicious trace of brightness in his eyes. "Martha fixed me," he agreed, and returned the hug fiercely.

It must have lasted less than a minute, that embrace, but its significance made a mockery of time. Unacknowledged wounds healed between them, unacknowledged distances were bridged, while soul-deep healing commenced, equally unacknowledged but welcomed with every cell. Ianto's collar grew damp, but it didn't matter because they weren't raindrops falling on Gwen's hair.

"Now _that_," Mickey put in, vaulting tables in his turn. "Is how it _should_ go."

Silence fell as Gwen put the pieces together while the shift continued within her. Her arms tightened around Ianto's waist, and her eyes stung anew as she felt his head drop to rest on hers. Her inbuilt need to protect had found a new focus. Or an extra one.

Jack really was a prize idiot sometimes. Of course, Ianto wasn't always any better. The weight of Ianto's head vanished, his hands squeezing around her back once before dropping away. Gwen flushed as she realised how long she'd been hugging the boss's boyfriend in front of the rest of the team, and she unwrapped her arms to hug herself instead.

Mickey cleared his throat. "What, none for me?" he said plaintively.

Gwen grinned at him. "_You_ weren't injured," she said loftily, though she knew full well the comment hadn't really been directed at _her_. Mickey pouted, peering unashamedly beneath his lashes at Martha. Martha ignored him, returning instead to bend over the Tribbles, making a nearly as elaborate show of not looking at Mickey as she was of her curvaceous rear. Gwen tried not to giggle. Mickey could hardly be less obvious. And Martha was … of yes, she _was_...and she _wasn't_ wearing her diamond.

"Let's get started," Martha prompted, dusting herself off as she rose, and dodging Gwen's wide-eyed stare.

-XXX-

Gwen and Mickey sat cross-legged amongst an explosion of oversized, humming pompoms, peering at Tribble undercarriages with occasional reference to Mickey's beloved diagram. The Tribbles were singing with pleasure at the handling. They'd change their tune soon enough, once they realised what was really happening in their love-nest.

Mickey's ship Captain had proved to be something of a Tribble enthusiast, and had obligingly furnished them with several methods of keeping the rampant breeding to a minimum until the rendezvous. Separating the genders was more work than freezing them, less work than creating a zero-gravity environment, and much more fun than either.

There was a steady stream of females being handed across to Martha, who scanned them for signs of pregnancy before adding them to the pile at her feet. Any already pregnant were passed on to Ianto at the far end, who was Tribble-wrangling between bouts of feverish keyboard activity on his laptop.

"So the babies don't get squashed by the mass," Gwen said with approval.

"Nah, just limits who they breed with," Mickey corrected.

Gwen gaped at the implications. "They wouldn't…" she began.

Ianto glanced at her, over the top of the furry masses already attempting to scale the barriers, whining unhappily at the mild charge running along the cables strung across them. "If you do the math, they probably already have," he said delicately. "We did only start with six, remember."

Gwen looked ill. The others tried to project the concept that they were laughing with her, not at her.

"In other news," Mickey continued, changing the subject before Gwen hit anybody. "Martha has come to her senses and tossed her tosser of a fiancé."

"Tom isn't a tosser," Martha objected, passing Ianto a garishly pink Tribble who snuggled into his collar and cooed.

"He's bloody boring, but," Mickey insisted.

Gwen and Ianto both found something to occupy their eyes.

Martha sighed, noting the way all of her colleagues were busy looking anywhere except at her. "But that wasn't his fault, was it?"

Gwen took in the melancholy note in the doctor's voice and kicked Mickey beneath the cover of Tribbles. He was smiling far too widely. Made it far too likely his foot would fit in there.

* * *

**I know this wasn't very action packed, but it sets the stage for…no, spoilers. Except that Here Be Angst  
Thank you for reading. **

Footnotes  
#_True. Med students are warned about this before their first dissection.  
__*I confess that the only basis for this is Mr. Spock in The Wrath of Khan. Shoot me down if you must._


	46. Valentine's Day 17

**Apologies again for the long delay. Things should improve from here on...I hope.  
The meat of this chapter was inspired by a review from Hklbry - so if you're still out there, Thanks!**

* * *

Jack leaned back in his chair with a sigh, smug with satisfaction at having finally caught up on his paperwork. At least he'd done something useful during his period of banishment.

Strangely enough, the thought didn't sting anymore. In fact, the sense of injustice he'd carried into the office had faded considerably, sunk beneath a wave of calm.

As the odd pieces fell into place, Jack shook his head at himself, smiling wryly at how well Ianto knew him. Evidently, he'd needed this interlude. Needed it quite badly, now that he could view the sequence of events since he'd rampaged down into the medical bay with the benefit of hindsight. The enforced tedium had given his seething emotions time to settle, allowing him to see Ianto's actions in a far different light. With the new and welcome clarity Jack could almost laugh at his conviction that Ianto had exiled him to his office in order to be alone with Mickey. He supposed he owed a few apologies. Jack grinned to himself. He had some pretty stellar ideas about how he'd make things up to Ianto – especially now that Martha had healed him – which meant he owed Martha a belated thank you as well.

Jack stretched further, tilting precariously backwards in his chair as his spine rearranged itself after being hunched over his desk. Yeah, this had turned out for the best. He'd hardly had a minute to himself since Ianto had been injured – at least not without the fate of the world or the status of his errr…thing with Ianto hanging in the balance.

But this _had_ been good. He hadn't even had Gwen pop in to be understanding and supportive…..

Perfectly on cue, the door slammed open, rattling the glass in the partition and revealing Gwen framed in the doorway. "You need to get out there," she ordered, barely sparing him a glance before twisting back towards the main Hub.

Jack sighed, heavily, deliberately, letting his chair rock back onto all four castors with a bang. "Thanks for the invite, Gwen, but…"

Gwen spun back towards him and actually stamped a foot. "I don't give a shit what you're sulking about in here," she snapped, which was totally unfair however you looked at it, and had Jack on his feet ready to retort.

Gwen halted the incipient tirade by raising a hand in an imperious gesture she must have learnt on traffic duty. "I don't care," she repeated slowly, apparently surprised at her own words. "I really don't, but, Jack…..he's telling them about Lisa!"

Jack blinked at her as his mind scrambled. Ianto wouldn't - not _that_ part at least – Gwen must have misheard, or misinterpreted, or….

"_All_ about her," Gwen emphasized, evidently having read his futile hopes in his expression. Her foot twitched again, a stamp thought better of and repressed. "Come _on_, Jack. Get your head out of the sand and your bum into gear. Ianto needs us."

It would be a while before Jack had time to reflect on the significance of that _us_.

-XXX-

"Ianto was hacking into Harwood's to arrange the transfer and making sure Rhys would be booked to drive it, all while pacifying pregnant Tribbles," Gwen related in a low voice as they sidled up to the boardroom. It occurred to Jack that they'd have approached with less caution had there been a hostile alien within, but he shuffled along regardless. It felt necessary somehow, besides giving him the chance to find out how things had gone to hell so quickly.

"Martha threw him some offhand compliment about multitasking," Gwen continued, "and I don't know, Ianto must have been at the limit of his concentration or something because he told her _Yvonne_ insisted on it, and…." Gwen paused to fix Jack with an enquiring stare, holding her annoyance in abeyance until she had time to properly rip him a new one. "Honestly, Jack, you've been trying to get Martha here for ages, did it not occur to you to mention she had a cousin at One?"

Jack swore colorfully beneath his breath. "I didn't know," he admitted, throttling down the guilt to savor later.

Gwen gave him one of _those_ looks – that cringing mix of disillusion and exasperation which had gradually brought him to the realization she'd never see past the layer Mickey called Captain Jack Flash. This time, though, Jack was more than willing to concede she was justified, especially given how close he'd become to Martha's family. He _should _have known, for both Martha's sake and Ianto's, before he'd ever brought the two together.

"Anyway, that tore it," Gwen summarized, shaking her head. "It didn't take Martha long to go from condolences to counseling, and she's _good_, Jack. Before I could do a thing, say anything, he was talking, and he _never _talks that much, and then it was….he was... He was just saying how….." Gwen stopped, needing a steadying breath before he she could continue. "How he couldn't leave_ her_ there, when I took the chance to sneak out and get you."

Jack bit his lip thoughtfully. It didn't ring true somehow. Martha _could_ be very persuasive, but Ianto had kept his secret for months under far more stress than a clever doctor in counseling mode. Still, misgivings could wait. However it came about, Ianto was reliving his own personal hell – well, one of them – and this time Jack was going to be at his side.

The boardroom door was ajar, as Gwen had left it when she slipped out. None of the Tribbles had bothered to take advantage of it though, not with the draw of three warm humans sitting accessibly on floor. All of them were engulfed to the knees in what could have been mistaken for a fluffy patchwork rug, except for the noise. Each creature contributed seamlessly to a constant musical hum, neither soft nor loud, not unlike the trilling of crickets at the end of a summer day.

Jack scanned the organized chaos of what had recently been his boardroom with hardly a quiver until his eyes fell on Ianto. The young man was leaning against one of the upturned tables acting as a makeshift barrier, eyes closed, awash in an encroaching tide of Tribbles. As Jack and Gwen eased into the room, a pale hand rose to detach a Tribble attempting to scale his shoulder, resettling it in his lap and stroking it absently without the slightest break in the flow of words.

If Mickey or Martha noticed their entry, entranced as they were in the story of Ianto's months in Purgatory, they showed no sign of it. Ianto, however, let his eyes flicker open, meeting Jack's gravely as he related the trauma of smuggling Lisa into the cellar, before dropping back to the Tribble in his lap.

Jack and Gwen engaged in a silent conversation of eyebrows and shrugs, and then found their own spots on the floor, both of them in Ianto's eye-line, both of them literally sitting on their hands lest they reach for him and disrupt the outpouring which might well be something he'd needed for years.

Jack wasn't sure what Gwen was feeling as they listened, though the welling tears were a clue. For himself, it was all guilt. Smothering, nauseating guilt. In all their time together, Ianto had never spoken to him like this, _of_ this, this shadowed period of pain and betrayal. Jack had been content to put the whole mess behind them and blithely assumed Ianto felt the same. It was only now, with the dam broken and words flooding out, that Jack understood. The reason for the silence wasn't Ianto's reluctance, but his own.

"…..But when Tanizaki released her," Ianto concluded, rubbing his hands across his forehead, "Well, _now _I've had to accept that what came out of the converter wasn't the same person who went into it, but _then_….." he broke off. Finally, after how long none of them could have said, his eyes made deliberate contact, first with Gwen, then, lingeringly, with Jack. "They had to execute her," he said shortly, with a jerk of his head in their direction. "_I _should've done it myself, but I couldn't." His eyes dropped back to the Tribble, and even after all this time his face was marked as much by guilt as sorrow.

"Of course you couldn't," Martha agreed, voice gentle, eyes darting sideways to skewer Jack with a look Gwen was very glad to have diluted before it landed on her.

Mickey shuffled forward, scooping Tribbles aside until he was close enough to cuff Ianto on the shoulder. "Wish I'd been there," he said simply.

Ianto's eyes gained focus, and then hardened into suspicion. "So you could've put her out of her misery sooner?" he asked bitterly.

Mickey blinked, in a totally non-threatening manner which looked cultivated but was possibly all that remained of the amiable buffoon Jack had once known. "No, mate," he denied simply. "No, but, see I've got…" his hands patted at his pockets until he found an obsolete-looking phone, which he withdrew with a flourish. "This, see?"

Ianto frowned at it. "A phone," he noted.

"Yeah," Mickey agreed, turning it over in his hands. "Well, no. Not so much the phone itself, but the code in its memory." He stopped, fixing Ianto with an earnest gaze. "Look mate, I don't know that it'd have worked, but we used it on Cybermen in that other universe, and what it does is it….it….it turns them back _on_."

Four faces stared at him in bewilderment. Mickey grunted in frustration, bouncing the phone on his palm.

"It's hard see how that would help, Mickey," Martha prompted, professionally neutral. "Perhaps you could tell us _what_ it turns back on, and why." She waved a hand. "Give us some of the tedious details which aren't immediately obvious to those of us lacking technical genius."

Mickey's face cleared. The tension in the room wound down a notch, just like that. Even the Tribbles slowed their restless stirring. Jack caught Martha's eye, winked, and received a modest quirk of the lips in return. Gwen was right, the girl was _good_.

Mickey bit his lip in concentration, getting his thoughts in order before he spoke. "The first thing they switch off, during," he flicked a glance at Ianto, checking for something he obviously found, "conversion, is pretty much what make us human, right? Feelings and such."

"Emotion," Jack clarified. "They implant and activate an emotional inhibitor." He couldn't meet Ianto's eyes just then, but he could feel them passing over him, resting as light as a promise, heavy as guilt.

"Yeah, that," Mickey agreed. He hefted his phone again. "And what this code does, it turns the chip off, right, and the person back _on._" His gaze travelled around the room before settling back on Ianto. "Most of them couldn't handle knowing what they'd become, and…" he paused, swallowing heavily. Martha shuffled closer, nudging Tribbles out of her path as she went, and with the touch of her hand on his arm Mickey rallied. "But with your Lisa, Ianto mate," he continued. "From what you've said, she could've still looked in a mirror and seen _herself_. Maybe that would've made a difference." His eyes looked past them all, seeing perhaps nothing, perhaps the past, perhaps a future that might have been. "Maybe," he repeated, shrugging helplessly, the movement dislodging Martha's hand, though she left it resting on the floor between them. "But it'd have been worth a shot at least," Mickey added, voice intense with strangled pain. "'Cause they were _all _people once, every one of them, and God knows I'd liked to have saved _someone_…."

Amidst a sea of Tribbles, two men's eyes met, sharing a history of unacknowledged pain. No-one spoke. No-one moved. Even the Tribbles fell still and silent.

And then they sang again, a rainbow of harmony, and the stasis broke. Martha slid the rest of the way to Mickey's side, laying an arm across his shoulders and speaking softly into his ear. Later, Jack remembered being relieved that his friend and rival was being looked after, but right at that moment he was hardly conscious of thinking, of moving, until he was as close to his lover as he could get and damn any Tribble that got in the way. He should have been surprised to find Gwen similarly positioned on Ianto's other side, if not by her action itself then at least by the way Ianto's hand wrapped as tightly around Gwen's arm as it did around Jack's, but somehow he wasn't. Something had changed between the two of them, no; the three of them, and it was a change for the better.

"On my first day at Torchwood," Gwen said suddenly, drawing all eyes to her, "I threw a chisel around a recovery site and released an entity that possessed humans and sexed them to death." She looked around the room, receiving an equal measure of confused and quizzical glances in return. "Well, since we seem to be sharing 'welcome to Torchwood' stories," she explained with a shrug. "Sometimes I wonder how I woke up with all my memories intact the next day." Gwen paused, shaking her head at the woman she'd been. "I don't even know how many people died as a result."

After a short silence, Gwen raised her head, half-expecting condemnation, to find Ianto smiling at her instead. A thin, wan smile, but real nonetheless. "Seven that we knew of," he supplied, squeezing her arm gently.

Jack looked at his friend across the man clasped between them, almost dizzy from the upwelling of gratitude. He wouldn't have said Gwen had that much finesse in her and he was damned impressed. "But you gotta admit there's worse ways to go," he put in. Ianto's eyes rolled. Gwen's mouth twitched. Normality approached at a rate of knots.

Mickey snickered into a much lighter atmosphere. "First time I met the Doctor, I got swallowed by a trolley bin," he announced, almost proudly. "I woke up in some god-awful subterranean whatsit with a lava pool swishing around the middle. Would've peed myself if I wasn't scared it'd set something alight."

When the laughter died down, Jack waved a hand. He wasn't usually one to discuss his own failings, but this was different. This was for Ianto, and it was only fair that he took a turn, absolutely nothing to do with keeping up with Mickey. "When _I_ met the Doctor," he said, "I was running what I thought was a sweet little scam in the middle of the Blitz, only it turned out to be a virus instead." Jack shuddered. "If he and Rose hadn't intervened, we'd all be wandering around looking for our Mummies, courtesy of yours truly."

Silence fell again, broken only by the song of the Tribbles. Gradually, subtly, each person turned towards Martha. "When _I _met the Doctor," she obliged. "I got his hearts beating again after a Plasmavore drank him dry. With a straw, no less." She shrugged, affecting a casual pose. "What can I say? Some of us are perfect."

The expected laughter rang about the room, washing away the remaining tension. Martha smiled at them all, then sobered. "But when I _left_ the Doctor," she continued, much more quietly. "_That's_ when I went wrong." She sighed. "I'd just helped erase a whole year of the world 'cause it was so wrong, but after I tracked Tom down I spent months trying to turn him into what that year made of him. Someone he was never meant to be." She shook her head. "Obviously I save my stuff up potential for my relationships."

The Tribbles hummed more loudly, several of them making a bit for freedom over Martha's shoulder.

"Now that," Mickey said, plucking the Tribbles off with a lingering touch, "sounds a bit like a challenge."

"Hey! That was _my _line," Jack complained, climbing to his feet and pulling Ianto with him. "And, given we haven't had any alarms today and we'll all be up early shifting these lusty powder puffs, I'm handing out early marks. Home, the lot of you."

It was a great exit line, only he couldn't take advantage of it until he'd peeled the Tribbles from his legs. "And however sweet these guys are, I'll be glad when they're off home," he muttered.

"Rendezvous six am tomorrow," Ianto supplied, tone and voice back to normal already, which shouldn't be possible, but this _was_ Ianto, after all. "I've booked us a refrigerated truck and I've even managed to score Rhys to drive it."

"Refrigerated?" Martha queried, eyebrows dancing.

"Low temperatures quell the mating urge, according to that freighter Captain," Mickey supplied. "Best we spare Gwen's hubby from having them reproducing in transit, don't you think?"

"Very considerate, given we've already hacked his system," Gwen chided, digging in her pockets for her phone. "I suppose I'd better call him and explain before someone notices a booking none of them made for a driver who isn't on the schedules."

"He'll work it out," Jack said offhandedly. "And he'll love it. Just be sure you tell him they're flesh eaters or something so he doesn't think you'll only let him near the safe ones."

"But I _wouldn't_ let him near anything dangerous," Gwen exclaimed. "What's wrong with that?"

Jack carefully didn't look at Martha. Or Ianto.

"Nothing's _wrong _with it," Martha explained patiently. "But you shouldn't let _him_ know that. He'll feel unmanly or…or."

"Emasculated," Mickey offered brightly. "Can't having him thinking his wife's the only one in family who's got a pair, now can you?"

They filed out in that manner, exchanging easy banter as though at least two of them hadn't just bared their souls and found them cleaner for it. Jack lingered, ostensibly to secure the boardroom door, catching Martha's arm before she could leave. "Thank you," he said gravely, once the others were out of earshot.

Martha smiled at him. "Told you I'm good," she said impishly.

Jack pulled her in for a hug. "Martha Jones, I've never doubted that for a second."

Martha reveled in the embrace for perhaps a moment longer than she ought – which she blamed completely on those pheromones he wouldn't let her analyze – then drew back enough to meet his eyes. "He needed that," she said.

Jack jerked his chin in the general direction of Mickey. "So did he."

"He did indeed," Martha agreed, while musing that she'd never known someone so skilled at deflection. "I'll keep an eye on him tonight," she offered absently, "since we seem to have become housemates."

Jack smirked. "Good to hear. I doubt you'll get any arguments from him."

Martha's eyes narrowed. "What I meant," she said firmly, ushering Jack to the stairs with help from a pointy elbow. "Is that I'll tell Mickey I'm taking Rift duty so you can stay with Ianto, which means _he'll_ stay close in case I need help."

Jack threaded an arm through hers as they followed the others to the cog, keeping just enough distance to remain unheard. "He doesn't need an excuse to be near you, Martha, and you know it."

"And Ianto doesn't need Mickey out of the way to want to be with you, Jack, and you _ought_ to know it," Martha countered.

Jack shrugged. "You can't blame a guy for covering all the bases."

Martha sniffed. "Throwing Mickey at me in the hopes he'll forget about being friends with Ianto isn't going to help, you know," she pointed out.

"Can't hurt either. Him _or _you," Jack replied, with a florid wink. "C'mon Nightingale, get back on the horse that threw you."

Martha's glare lasted a second or two before shattering into a grin. "Jack Harkness, are you implying Mickey's a stallion?"

Jack spluttered.

"Maybe it's Ianto who ought to be worried, if that's the way you think," Martha added with an air of thoughtfulness. "Not that I'm saying you're wrong, mind."

Glowing from the achievement of having rendered Jack speechless, Martha scampered ahead to slip through the cog with the others – and glowed for an entirely different reason when Mickey stepped aside to let her go through before him.

**Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed.**


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